Time In A Bottle: The Sequel
by Hephaestus01
Summary: Bruce Wayne's life has been tipped upside down and shaken well. This is the second part of the tale of him and his family coping with lifes' curve-balls. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The salty breeze washed over him as he stood on the bluffs. It had taken some convincing, but he had finally acquiesced to Barbara's and Dick's request that he go away for a few weeks. Looking back on the conversation now, Bruce had to agree that it was for the best. He looked ten years younger than he had a little over a week ago and he knew that would be hard to explain to people.

Of course, he needn't have worried about a suitable excuse for the change in his appearance. Barbara had purposefully leaked information to Gotham's most popular published rags that Bruce Wayne had left the country for personal reasons. Plastic surgery had been heavily hinted at and the papers had run with it. Now, he just had to wait an appropriate amount of time to make the lie believable.

Bruce hadn't spoken to Tim since the night he had attacked him. Sighing, he thought he wouldn't know what to say to the young man anyway. Apologizing didn't seem to be enough and it sounded hollow when he practiced in his own head.

Dick had seemed more relieved than anything, Bruce thought, when he had agreed to leave for a vacation of sorts. Agreeing that he needed time to heal his mind, Bruce had decided on a quiet place where he could meditate and retrain his concentration and emotions.

Barbara and Cass were trying to track down Talia. She would have to be dealt with, Bruce knew. More memories had invaded his consciousness in the last few days and Bruce had been slowly categorizing and filing them. Licking his suddenly dry lips, he wondered how much of what he remembered had actually happened. Until he could decipher between reality and subconscious suggestion, he decided he would not allow himself back in the suit.

Turning back to the house with a sigh, he watched the white wall length curtains blow through the open French doors. He had purchased the house, through a different name by way of Oracle, fully furnished and in move-in ready condition. He wouldn't have had the energy, he thought, to find a place that needed to be furnished.

The house was large enough to accommodate his need for space and was decorated tastefully enough. Most everything in the house was white and beige, a blank canvas that suited him. He figured the uncluttered and simple color motif would help to un-clutter his mind, or at the very least wouldn't distract him.

Entering the glass double doors that lead directly into the master bedroom, he walked slowly through the large room and into the living room. Connie was sitting on the couch.

The tabloids had reported that Bruce Wayne's personal physician and possible lover had accompanied him on his trip. That had sent most of the elite social circle of Gothamites into a whirl. He could only imagine the questions he would face when he returned to his little loved social circle in Gotham.

She hadn't pressed him about why he was taking a trip, reportedly to have plastic surgery, when he already looked as though he had had work done. The questions were blatant behind her eyes but she had decided to be patient and told Bruce as much.

It had been more difficult to convince Connie to go than it had been Bruce. Alfred and Leslie had intervened and after a lengthy conversation she had finally relented. Alfred was of the mind Bruce needed a keeper and had used that argument and quite a bit of guilt to convince Connie to travel with Bruce.

The guilt of knowing he was going through some kind of crisis and shouldn't travel alone had finally broken her and she started to pack the next day. Though she had taken this so called vacation, though, she had attempted to keep her distance from Bruce, both physically and emotionally.

She had slept in a separate bedroom and spent her days swimming in the Ionian Sea. They had taken their meals together but spoken little. Traveling into the nearest town had proven to be eye opening for Connie. Not only did Bruce speak fluent and perfectly accented Italian, she had discovered, but he had rather more knowledge of the area they were staying in than she had imagined.

Sitting next to her on the couch, Bruce glanced her way. She was wearing flowing white pants and a tank top and seemed to blend into the background as she curled her feet under her. Almost like a chameleon, he thought, she strove to become a part of her surroundings. Perhaps she thought he wouldn't notice her, he reflected.

"It's beautiful here," she said, breaking the silence.

"It is," he agreed.

Sighing, she leaned her head on her hands. "Why did you really want me here, Bruce?"

He thought a moment before answering. They hadn't spoken to each much in the three days they had been in Italy and he had been anticipating her question. "I would feel like a real ass if I left you after what you told me."

Shaking her head, she looked disgusted. "Guilt, huh? See, that's why I didn't want you to know."

"No," he said, "it's not guilt. It's…a sense of responsibility, I suppose. What did you think I would do with that information, just store it away and leave you for two weeks?"

Shrugging, she sighed. "I don't know, Bruce. Don't feel responsible for me. I don't want you to keep me around because you feel bad or burdened or guilty. I never meant to make you feel any of those things."

Dragging a hand through his hair, he scowled. The bits of gray that had been streaking through his hair were all but gone. Accepting the physical changes he had undergone had been more difficult than he had thought they would be. It seemed to him as though a different man were staring back at him from the mirror.

"Connie, I didn't want to leave Gotham and leave you feeling as though you had scared me away. You didn't."

"It doesn't matter, Bruce. The most we can be now is friends. You can leave Gotham any time you want and you don't have to consult me." She finally made eye contact with him when she was done speaking.

"Maybe I just wanted the company," he said quietly.

Scoffing, she looked at him incredulously. "I somehow doubt that very much. You could have taken any of your brood, Bruce. Alfred would have gone with you in a heartbeat. You wanted me to go and you still haven't told me why."

Looking deeply into her eyes, he was afraid to tell her the real reason. Instead of frightening him with her confession of her illness, she had endeared herself to him. He was now infatuated with her vulnerability and passion and honestly. The more he spoke to her, the more he wanted to speak to her. The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to look at her. Of course, he couldn't tell her any of that. She was adamant they be just friends and he would respect those wishes.

She looked into his deep blue eyes that suddenly seemed glacial to her and swallowed hard. It had taken most of the very long journey to Maratea for Connie to admit to herself that she had wanted to go with Bruce. They hadn't spoken much during the twelve hour flight to Naples and the subsequent three hour drive to Maratea, but when they had he had been an excellent conversationalist and she had been put quite at ease.

She could never admit to him that she wanted to be much more than friends; it wouldn't be fair, she thought. He deserved better than to fall in love with a dead woman walking, she told herself. It would be better to keep him at arm's length. Of course, she thought, if she had really wanted to do that she wouldn't have traveled with him to what she considered the most beautiful place she had ever seen.

"Change of scenery," he finally said. "I needed to look out of a window and see something other than Gotham. Maybe I wanted to look across the room and see someone other than a member of my brood, as you call them. This is a good change."

"I'm glad I could help," she said softly but stiffly.

Sighing, he stood and held his hand out to her. "Let's go. I'm hungry and you've been swimming all day, you must be starving."

Frowning, she followed him outside and got into the car he had rented in Naples. Neither deemed it necessary to change, a fact Bruce thought Alfred would balk at. Dressed in simple khakis and a blue tunic, Bruce had to smile slightly. His long time friend and butler would certainly not approve of his dinner attire.

Sitting in the restaurant, Connie ran her hands along the rough walls and looked up at the beamed ceiling. It was cozy and charming, she thought, and the dim lighting and excellent wine relaxed her mood.

Drinking only water, Bruce reclined just a little in his chair and marveled at the fact that most men would give an organ to be in his position. He was in the most gorgeous and least touristy area of Italy with an exceptional woman. They were staying in the previous home of a one of the Italian elite. It was the stuff movies were made of, he thought.

Sighing, he looked into her dark chocolate eyes and spared her a small smile. She returned the gesture and lifted her wine glass to him before sipping it. This, he thought, was definitely a place to recover his wits and mental skills.

At the end of the two week period of forced exile, he thought, he would either be entirely ready to get back to the streets of his beloved city, or he would never want to leave this magical place and this wonderful woman. He wasn't sure which outcome he was hoping for.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tim couldn't suppress the sigh that escaped his lips. He had been patrolling with Cass throughout the night and though she was one of the best partners he had ever fought with, she wasn't much of a conversationalist. He wasn't much for talking while working either, but a few words wouldn't have been grudged, he thought.

They were heading back to the cave, both on their own respective motorcycles. Even with Batman out of town, neither had wanted to take the car. It seemed disrespectful, he thought.

Dick and Bruce had spoken quietly before Bruce had left and although Tim had not been privy to the conversation, he had quickly deduced the topic under discussion. It seemed to Tim that Bruce had asked Dick to patrol as Batman every few nights while he was away.

His ego had been slighted. Members of his bat-family called him Batman-light, a nickname he did not relish but did not chafe at either. Dick had told him quietly once that it was Tim who was the most logical choice to fill the Batman's shoes when it came time for Bruce to retire.

Tim had not hoped for that retirement. He had not thought about it and the very idea that it could be happening now was terrifying to him. If it was going to happen, though, Tim thought it should not be Dick in the suit. Dick himself had voiced how badly he wanted to avoid the responsibility of being Batman.

With two small children and a burgeoning career, Tim didn't blame Dick for his reluctance. He just wished his older brother would make up his mind. He either wanted it or he didn't. Tim felt as though he was a yo-yo on the end of a string that Dick and Bruce controlled.

He was twenty-seven years old, damn it, Tim thought. It was about time he put the Robin moniker away anyway. He was the oldest Robin, though he looked a little younger than his years, and no one before him had been Robin as long as he had. He wanted to move up through the ranks, as it were.

Getting off the bike, he sighed again and listed the possible names and new identities he could adopt. Cass interrupted his thoughts as she threw a towel at him.

"You're covered in mud," she said.

Her voice was darker than it had been before Bruce had left. She had gone nearly mute during and directly after his departure. Tim hadn't realized how upset she was during their conversation on Barbara and Dick's balcony a week ago. When she had decided to stop speaking, he had understood exactly what Bruce had meant to her.

He was more than an employer and trainer to all of them. He was definitely a dad to Dick and a mentor and father figure to Cass. Tim wasn't sure what Bruce was to him. Memories of his dad from over ten years previous filled his mind and he knew he could never think of Bruce as his father.

It was different for Dick, Tim thought. Dick was thirty-two and Bruce was the only father he had known since he was eight. It had taken Dick and Bruce nearly twenty years to get to the point where they were comfortable referring to each other as father and son. Tim didn't think he would ever get to that place in his life.

Turning to Cass, he saw that she was already in a sports bra and boxer shorts and was heading to the showers. Deciding to do the same, he stripped his mask off and undressed to just his underwear. Their uniforms were discarded into a hamper for Alfred to deal with.

Drying his hair with a towel, Tim wandered into the training area and saw Cass sitting in the middle of the floor, staring at the mat. Frowning, Tim approached her and sat next to her a foot away.

They stayed in silence for a time before he spoke.

"He'll come back better, you know."

She scoffed and shook her head. "He went with her. They'll come back together and he'll make puppy eyes at her and he won't want to be Batman anymore."

Slightly shocked she had said so many words; he reflected that she had just said more words in one sentence than she had said in the past few days. "I don't think so, Cass. I think he needs to get back into the head set and he'll be back. He's in better shape than ever and I don't think he would waste that opportunity."

Shaking her head, she looked at him with exasperation. "She'll distract him. How can he concentrate with her there? Never happen."

Taking a deep breath, he leaned his elbows on his knees as he shifted into an Indian style position. "Maybe…" He swallowed hard and put aside his inherent dislike of the woman Bruce seemed so enamored with. "Maybe she's just what he needs. She doesn't know who he is so there's no pressure. Maybe he just needs to relax."

"He needs to train," she said vehemently, "he needs to get back to work and forget about what happened."

"Did you ever forget?" He asked.

Her shocked look was enough to make him wince. Shaking his head, he started again, "I mean, you never forget the life you took all those years ago and that wasn't your fault. How is Bruce supposed to forget the two lives he ended?"

"Wasn't his fault either," she said in a low and dangerous voice.

He was dangerously close to getting his ass kicked, he thought. "I know that and you know that but I doubt he does. Even if he can consciously acknowledge it wasn't his fault, he still won't forgive himself. He has to work it out with himself and then he'll want to work even harder as Batman to redeem himself. No one knows what happened but us and we haven't judged him, but he'll act like we have."

She looked contemplative for a few moments before she spoke again. "I did the same thing."

It was a statement and question wrapped into one. "Yeah, you did. You worked really hard to prove yourself to us and there was no need to. Bruce…well, if I know him, he'll be ten times worse than you were."

"We have to fix it." The look of determination on her face was enough to frighten him for a moment.

"What do you mean, we have to fix it? We're looking for Talia, and finding her is probably the best thing that could happen. We'll just support him and we'll act like…"

"Nothing happened?" She finished for him. "Didn't work the first time."

Shaking his head he looked at with reproach. "I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say that we should act like nothing's different. And it isn't. He is who he is and it wasn't his fault and we should act accordingly."

Nodding, she agreed with him, "Okay. He better not marry her, though."

Taken aback, Tim looked at her shock. "Marriage! No way, Cass. Bruce isn't the marrying kind and he definitely won't marry her. She's…no not her. He just wouldn't. I think we should be more worried about you in that regard."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said with a defiant look on her face.

He had to smile. "Yeah, sure. You better hope you don't marry him, Bruce would kill you both."

"He makes me laugh," she finally said after a moment of silence.

Grinning sadly, Tim nodded. "Just make sure Bruce never finds out who you're talking to all the time on that stupid thing of yours'," he said, indicating the Blackberry seated next to her.

She was about to say something when she received a message on the very device Tim had pointed to. Rolling his eyes, he watched her smile at him ruefully before grabbing her lifeline to the outside world and texting furiously.

Standing, he decided to leave her with her odd relationship and tried not to think about anyone in his family marrying anyone. Dragging a hand through his hand, he hated that his family might start splintering and going off to create their own families. He had avoided Greta for years due to his fears that he would abandon his family for her.

Sighing, he threw his towel into a nearby hamper and started towards his bedroom. Pushing his thoughts from his mind, he tried to focus on the softness of his bed and the promise of coming sleep.

* * *

A/N: Thank you everyone for the comments on the first book, I really took them to heart!

Louie Pastiche – It is always wonderful to read your reviews, I am so happy you liked the story and I hope the sequel lives up to expectations!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Their meal had been delicious; she had eaten the best fish of her life. The wine was local and rich and the chocolate dessert had been decadent. Now, walking with Bruce on the beach in bare feet, she entwined her arm around his and leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked.

Pulling her just a little closer, he took his arm from around hers and instead wrapped it around her shoulders. The night was warm enough that she was not sorry she was only wearing a tank top. His body heat warmed her more as they walked together a few feet from the surf.

They had warmed to each other during dinner. She tried not to resent him for the secrets he tried so hard to keep from her. He, in turn it had seemed, tried to be more open with her. They had spoken of their childhoods and educations. He had been bright and easy going throughout dinner.

Speaking of his parents with this woman did not pain him as he had thought it would. He did not divulge details, but he started to cross the divide he had created between them by revealing bits of his past to her.

They spoke of traveling and she wanted to hear everything about his trips to Japan. Though he had purposefully left out the parts of his martial arts training, he told her about the people he had met and a funny story involving him and Alfred lost in the woods at night during a botched hiking trip.

She had told him about her year long study in England when she had been pursuing advancement in immunology. She had spoken briefly about David and her parents and about losing her mom when she was still in medical school. Bruce had seen the pain that was still evident from that loss in Connie's eyes.

He had found that even though he knew her life story and the details of her existence, he hadn't known her. She spoke about the death of her father and her divorce and how close together they had occurred. He had known the dates of both those occurrences, but he had realized as she spoke that he hadn't realized the full extent of how those things had shaped her as a person.

Walking with the sand under their bare feet, he sighed and leaned his head on top of hers for an instant before straightening his spine again. Glancing up at his face, she smiled sadly. If only, she thought, this had happened years ago. If only she had met him before David. If only she wasn't sick. If only, if only, if only, she thought.

"Being here, in this place…this is beyond my wildest dreams, Bruce."

Smiling down at her, the leer of Bruce Wayne was no where to be seen as the kindest he so rarely showed people started to spread across his face. "I'm glad you came with me."

"Me too," she said, and she realized she meant it, which made her smile a little wider.

"Is there anything you want to do, specifically, while we're here?" He asked.

She thought for a moment before answering. "I want to watch the sunrise. That's my favorite part of the day and I haven't gotten up early enough yet to see it here. It must be spectacular."

"I think we can do that," he responded.

"What about you?" Stopping and turning to the surf, she sat down in the sand. "What do you want to do while we're here?"

Sitting next to her, he brought his knees up and leaned his hands on the sand behind him. "I want to heal," he found himself saying.

She could not resist asking the question that came to her mind. "Heal from what?"

Sucking in a sharp intake of air, he narrowed his eyes and stared at the sea. "From life," he finally said.

She smiled a little ruefully at that. "You are so philosophical, Bruce. Really, you are so much more existential than you let on."

A short laugh escaped him. "I'm not an existentialist. Are you?"

Turning to face him, she shook her head. "No, I was raised Presbyterian, but I studied a little philosophy."

"A doctor studying philosophy? You're a modern day female version of Da Vinci." His smile widened as he spoke.

She laughed and moved a little closer to him. "I don't think so. I just liked a lot of things. I liked most of my subjects I studied, but medicine was just…it just fit me. I knew I wanted to do it from the time I was five and I would pull the arms off my barbies and then wrap them back on with tape and paper."

"That sight must have made your parents really happy," his voice was tinged with sarcasm.

She laughed, "oh yeah, mom thought I was either going to be a butcher or a doctor and she was pretty happy when I chose the latter. I was such a weird kid, though. I read all these medical books and I was obsessed with rare diseases. It's a good thing there was no internet when I was kid, I would have never gotten off of it."

Sitting up straighter, he put his arm around her shoulders. "You are kind of weird," he said in a soft voice.

Punching his bicep lightly, she scowled at him. "I am not. And you're one to talk. I could write a book about everything I don't know about you and maybe a page about what I do."

This was dangerous territory, he knew, but the surf and the beach and dinner and this woman were making him drunk with tranquility. "What do you want to know?" He heard himself ask.

Turning to him a little more, she seemed to think deeply about that question. If she pried too much she knew he would clam up and the moment would be ruined. If she said something flippant she might miss her chance to really understand him. Biting her lip, she started into the depths of his eyes for a moment before answering.

"I want to know where you went."

He knew exactly what she was talking about. She was referring to the days he spent in captivity being tortured and abused. She was referring to the time he was gone, turning into a monster. The emotions must have flashed across his face because he saw the concern etched on hers. Closing the door to his emotions entirely, he watched her wince.

She seemed to be able to read him so well, he thought. When he closed off his feelings, she always knew and she always reacted. Now, he noticed, she looked sad and almost a little afraid.

"I went away…" He started slowly. "I went with a woman I knew years ago and…it did not go well for me."

The hurt that flashed across her face was excruciating to watch. "Oh," she said softly. "A woman did this to you?" She chose to ignore how hurt she was Bruce had run off with a woman and instead focused on his experience.

"This?" He asked.

"This…this total meltdown that I got to watch. You and Dick and Tim and even Cassandra were all beat up and the looks on Alfred's and Leslie's faces…Bruce, I know a simple break-up or fight didn't do that. You were unconscious, sedated, and then you…you were so lost on that bridge a few days later. What really happened?"

Her last question was tentative and Bruce could see her preparing herself for either an abrupt end to their night or an argument. Sighing, he realized she didn't deserve either of those reactions. Most women would have demanded answers long before now, he thought.

"We didn't break up. We were never really together, though she wanted to be. Her father…he has some very…questionable beliefs and activities. I didn't want anything to do with them. She…thought she could keep me. She thought she could convince me to stay."

Her breath hitched and she took a deep breath. "You didn't go of your own will, did you?"

Shaking his head, his eyes seemed to suddenly become haunted as he continued staring at the softly breaking waves.

Swallowing hard, she licked her suddenly dry lips. "Why didn't anyone call the police?"

"You don't understand Connie…"

She interrupted him, "I'm trying to, Bruce."

"I know you are, Connie." His tone was soft and sad, instead of the patronizing or reproachful tone she would have expected.

She didn't know whether to cry or to be infuriated. In the end, she just leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his chest. He was all talked out for the night, she thought. It wouldn't be fair to push him any further. Sighing heavily, she nuzzled her face into his chest and breathed his scent in. There would be time to figure him out, she told herself.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sleep evaded her as thoughts plagued her uneasy mind. She wanted to go to his room and crawl into bed with him. She wanted to make his pain go away, but she knew there wasn't a big enough bandage for that. Sniffing a little, she looked at the clock. It was a little after three in the morning. She had been lying in her bed since slightly after midnight and she was no closer to sleeping than she had been when she first lay down.

Standing, she wrapped her arms around her chest and walked in just her silk knee length nightgown towards Bruce's bedroom. She wondered if he was awake as well. Slipping the door open ever so slightly, she peeked through the crack only to see an empty bed that looked as though it had never been touched. Suddenly alarmed, she walked into the room and looked towards the bathroom, the door to which was open and the room empty.

Swallowing, she took a few steps into the center of the room and looked either way. When a movement from outside caught her eye, he heart jumped into her throat. Images of a burglars and suicides clouded her mind and she padded quickly to the open French doors.

The white curtains billowed around her in the breeze and her breath caught. Bruce was standing in the damp grass in only black track pants. He was going through a routine that she could only categorize as tai-chi, though she knew it was not.

His limbs moved with grace and ease and his legs lashed out in beautiful arks at invisible opponents. He moved slowly, with power and assurance, as if he knew just how magnificent he really was. She watched him bring his arms towards his body before lashing out with a slowly released power that took her breath away.

As he turned towards her, she jumped a little and made to hide but she saw his eyes were closed. His slightly parted lips released slow, long breaths, and he moved like a panther on the hunt. Clutching her chest with her hand, she tried to control her breathing so he wouldn't hear her. She was not so lucky.

Opening his eyes, he looked straight at her while still in his fighting stance. The look in her eyes chilled him to the bone. She was frightened and overwhelmed and obvious did not think he learned tai-chi at a YMCA. No, of course she wasn't as dumb as that, he told himself.

In an instant, she had turned and was running through the bedroom. Fear had suddenly gripped her and she did not know who this man was, who was made of flexible steel and could concentrate so hard on such powerful exercises. She had never seen such a look on anyone's face and she knew with finality he was much more than he had led her to believe.

He caught her wrist as she made it to the center of the bedroom. Swinging her towards him, he heard her cry out in panic and listened as her palm cracked across his face. Ignoring the sting in his cheek, he pinned her arms to her sides and lifting her into the air he brought her against the wall furthest from the doorway.

Her eyes were wide and her breath was coming in quick, short gasps. "Who are you?" She finally managed to push through her lips.

He had heard that question from many people in many different ways but hearing it from her seared his heart in a way he had never felt. Releasing her, he set her on the floor but kept his body close enough that she knew not to run again.

He had to fight with himself to keep his voice calm and soft. The Bat was clawing towards the surface and using that voice on her would be disastrous, Bruce knew. "What are you doing here?"

Not quite sure how to take that question, she answered how she had been taught during her psychiatric rotations in medical school. "You invited me here, to Maratea, we've been here four days today, Bruce."

Grinding his teeth together, he closed his eyes and leaned a little closer to her. "I'm not crazy, Connie, but thank you for the recap. I meant, what are you doing in my room?"

"I couldn't sleep," she whispered. "I thought…" Unable to say more she looked into the eyes of a man that was suddenly an entirely different creature.

Taking a step away from her, he nodded. "Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

She didn't move, as if she was a dear caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"Connie…Connie, I'm sorry," approaching her again, slowly this time, he lightly put his hands on either of her shoulders. "I didn't mean to scare you."

It was a moment before she could speak. "What were you doing?"

Frowning, he took his hands from her and slowly, deliberately, moved away. Sitting on the bed, he relaxed his shoulders. "I was mediating. Not in the traditional sense, but in the way I was taught."

"You were obviously taught quite a lot," she said in one fast breath.

Nodding, he searched her eyes, trying to decipher how suspicious she was. "I have trained before."

"In Japan…" she started. "You trained in Japan…and…when you traveled…"

He nodded ever so slightly as he watched the puzzle pieces inside her head fall into place.

"You…you were hurt, and your family was hurt and…Bruce…" Her breath hitched. "Who are you?"

Leaning back a little, he stared at her sadly. "Are you afraid of me, now?"

Shaking her head, she tried to relax her rigid posture. "You shouldn't be able to do that. You shouldn't be able to walk around with bruised ribs and no signs of pain. You shouldn't be able to lie so easily about injuries…polo my ass," she said referring to their first date. "What are you? Some kind of secret street fighter or…are you a criminal? Oh God, are you involved with the mob?"

His face remained locked in a visage of sadness as he slowly shook his head. "You don't want to know, Connie. I'm sorry I frightened you, and…"

He did not get to finish his sentence. "What wouldn't I understand? Tell me Bruce! You can't do this to me! You can't let me see you like I've seen you and then bring me here and not tell me! Tell me, damn it!"

Punctuating her sentence was her fist flying to her side to slam into the wall. He was slightly impressed with the whole that was left in the wake of her anger.

Staring at the hole the side of her fist had created she brought both of her hands to her mouth. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "oh, I'm so sorry…"

Standing, he stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders again, "it's okay," he said softly. "It's only a wall."

Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and fought to stand still under his grasp. "Bruce, normal people can't do what you did out there and normal people don't act the way you have been, and normal people don't get kidnapped by ex-girlfriends and come back beat to hell. Please…tell me something. Anything, Bruce, but tell me something true."

Taking a deep breath, he backed away from her and shook his head. He watched her slowly turn to face him again. "I can't tell you, Connie. And damn it, don't interrupt me, that is infuriating. I like you, a lot. I really do. But I can't tell you everything. You need to know that right now. I won't answer all your questions."

Shaking her head, anger came over her once again. "Screw you, you jerk! Stop doing this to me! You let me in just a fraction of an inch and when I can see another inch in the distance, you push me away again! I don't want to love you and I don't want you to love me, but you cannot string me along!"

Roaring in anger, he fought the urge to tear his hair out. "You insolent woman! I'm giving you all I can!"

She was on top of him faster than he had thought possible. She pounded her fists against his chest and he was surprised her blows actually hurt. Grabbing her wrists, he threw her backwards to the bed. Landing hard, the air was sucked out of her as he straddled her and grabbed her wrists again.

Holding her down, he looked into her eyes with the intensity and passion he normally reserved for his work. In an instant, he realized his mistake. She had suddenly gone completely still and was staring up into his eyes.

"You aren't Bruce Wayne," was all she could manage to say.

Climbing off of her in less than a second, he stared at her.

"You aren't Bruce Wayne," she repeated. "He's a womanizing rake of an idiot. He's a drinking, carousing, dumbass. You…you are not any of that. So…who are you, really, Bruce?" Taking a step closer to him, she held out her hand as if to touch his cheek and whispered, "You don't have to hide from me."

Closing the distance in one long stride, he crushed his lips to hers and lifted her body against him. Breathing hard, he let the pain of not being bale to tell her about his life wash over and through him. The grief that he would not be able to give the woman in front of him everything she deserved coursed through him and he kissed her all the harder for it.

They watched the sun come up in Bruce's bed hours later as they lay naked and entwined. Neither felt the need to speak as the suns' rays poured in from the still open doors and a soft breeze blew across their bare skin. Holding each other, they warded off the demons clawing at the edge of each other's consciousness. In that bed, together, they both found a modicum of peace.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Releasing a slow breath, he stood under the spray of warm water. The shower was outside and was built like a miniature maze with waist high smooth stone, for modesty. The day was warm and he hadn't wanted to wake Connie by showering in the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

The intensity of the early morning hours had passed slowly into a peaceful sunlit morning. After the sunrise she had drifted to sleep in his arms and he had held her for over an hour, enjoying the feeling of embracing her.

The front of the shower was against the side of the house and he leaned his hands and forehead on the smooth whitewashed stone wall. She was going to be the undoing of him, he thought.

The Bat demanded she be sent away. His better judgment screamed that she was going to ruin him; she was going to make him soft and unpredictable. He scoffed out loud. He was already unpredictable, he told himself. He had been ruined, but not by her. She was steadying, he thought.

She was caring and obviously intelligent and he enjoyed her company too much to push her away entirely. Rubbing his eyes, images of her angry face, and later her blissful face, floated through his mind. He couldn't help but smile.

She was so passionate, he felt as though she was a kind of kindred spirit. Her emotions ran deep, it seemed, and he respected how fiercely she felt those emotions. Part of him envied her for being able to express those feelings so freely. He had never had that luxury or ability.

Swallowing hard, he rinsed the last vestiges of soap from his body and turned to the doorway to see her standing, naked and unashamed, against the side of the house.

Her body was glorious. She was soft in all the right places and her skin seemed to glow in the morning light. Her hair was a halo around her face and her passion bruised lips seemed to beckon to him.

Standing under the spray, he watched her walk towards him and through the stone walkway that lead to the shower opening. He backed away so she could stand under the water and watched as she wet her hair and ran her hands down her body.

"How did you sleep?" She asked as she started to lather the soap within her hands.

A part of his brain had suddenly stopped working but he didn't seem to mind. "I didn't," he said truthfully, "but I probably will a little later."

She nodded in understanding. "Sorry things got so intense. I can get a little too…well; I didn't mean to go off like that."

She was soaping her breasts and stomach and his eyebrows were slowly climbing towards his hairline. "Somehow, I think I'm going to be able to forgive you."

Laughing, she threw her head back and shook her wet hair. "You're awful," she said. "Well, I'm glad my breasts apologized and I'm glad you accepted their apology. They say thank you."

Realizing where he had been staring, he suddenly smiled and grabbed her waist. Lifting her into the air, he set her down on the edge of the stone half-wall and kissed her.

Jumping a little at the cold stone suddenly against her skin, she kissed him back. Wrapping her arms around neck, she sighed contentedly into his mouth. Curling her legs around his midsection, she brought him closer to her and deepened the kiss.

He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. Succumbing to her charms, he made love to her in the outdoor shower, against the cold stone wall. She clung to him afterwards as they stood in the cold spray of the water. The hot water had run out long before they had finished, but they hadn't seemed to notice.

Slipping into swimwear, they scaled the side of the bluffs, avoiding the steep front of jagged rocks, down to the beach and small cove that was their own. Swimming out through the waves, they started laps between two outcroppings of rocks.

It had been Connie's practice to swim every day since their arrival and she found she enjoyed his company more than her solitude during her laps. Though neither spoke, they swam together and seemed at times to silently compete.

He was a strong and powerful swimmer, but she had been a state champion in high school and practiced throughout medical school and afterwards. Keeping up with him through the waves, she was impressed by hard he made her work to win a few races.

"I used to swim all the time," she said when they were both done swimming and were sitting on the sandy beach.

His wet hair hung in front of his forehead and the sand sticking to his wet body made him look all the more incredible to her. "When did you stop?"

"A little while after my divorce, I guess. I still swim every now and then but since I moved to Gotham, I haven't really had the time."

Nodding, he stood and brushed must of the sand from his arms. "We'll have to remedy that," he said quietly.

Standing with him, she gave him a curious look, "how do you propose to do that?"

"I have an Olympic size swimming pool at Wayne Manor. I'll have to give you a proper tour of the house. You can swim there all you like."

His invitation surprised both of them and he found himself kicking himself internally. He was going to scare her away, he thought, and reminded himself she wanted to keep their relationship casual.

She told herself he was just being nice and there as no underlying meaning to his invitation. "I'd like that. I think…well, I need to slow down a little. I've been working too much this past year."

"I know that feeling," he found himself saying.

Smiling, she walked next to him as they started up the beach towards the grassy side of the bluffs they would climb back to the house. Once upon a time, she thought, someone had tried to carve steps into the rocks, but they had been worn away and covered with moss. Now, there were slight indentations in the rock that allowed a person just enough leverage to climb. Thankfully, it wasn't too steep, like the front of the bluffs the ocean waves crashed against.

"Too much work at Wayne Enterprises?" She asked.

He was careful to answer her question in a vague way. "I've dedicated my life to my work; sometimes I need a break too."

"Well, it's good we're here, then." Her genuine smile made him want to sweep her into his arms and twirl around the beach, but he refrained himself.

They climbed in silence, both concentrating on their hand and feet placement. It wasn't a very dangerous climb, but he certainly didn't want to watch her tumble down the craggy hillside. Watching her as often as he himself took a step, he breathed a sigh of relief once they reached the top.

Tossing her wet and sandy bathing suit on the patio, she wandered through the bedroom and into the bathroom unclothed. Rinsing the sand from her body and scrubbing the salt from her hair, she smiled.

Spending time with Bruce was something she had never thought she would enjoy so much. When she exited the shower, she saw his standing against the sink, his arms crossed against his chest.

"Waiting for me?" She asked in a teasing voice.

"Waiting for the shower," he answered, "you're in mine."

Wrapping a towel around her chest, she grinned. "You could have used mine."

"Watching you in mine was worth the wait." Stepping past her, he watched a slight blush rise in her cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Excusing himself to the part of the house opposite their bedrooms, he entered a room he had deemed his training area. It had originally been an informal family room, but the position of the room within the house meant it was private and not as often visited as the rest of the house. Alfred had made the necessary arrangements to have it refurbished into a gym before Bruce had departed from Gotham.

Locking the door behind him, he pulled his shirt off and took a fighting stance in front of the punching back. The sand filled bag resisted his punches and kicks and he bounced on the balls of his feet in between combinations.

His body was in excellent shape and condition. He was faster and stronger than he had ever been. Focusing his mind, though, was proving to be harder than it had been when he was first training as a youth.

Relentlessly dragging his consciousness into a fierce cage of concentration, he allowed his instincts to take over and felt his body move as a well oiled machine. As he moved, he felt his mind settle itself and second by second he moved faster.

When his mind and body finally started to work together, in harmony, he started to make his combinations more difficult and intricate. When he was done, his body was covered in sweat and he had slowly pushed the bag across the room. Pulling it back to the middle of the room using the chains attached to the bottom and the runner it hung from on the ceiling, he started again.

He was not practicing his power moves. If he had chosen to, one kick or palm slam would have sent the bag flying across the room on its metal track. His purpose was to concentrate. He was making progress when he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, he grabbed a towel on his way to the door. Connie smiled a little hesitantly as he opened the door. Trying to give her a reassuring smile, he nodded to her and held his arm out as an invitation into the room.

She swallowed and looked around at the gym he had created for himself. Mirrors lined three of the four walls and a small fighting ring was set up towards the far side of the room. Instead of a traditional western boxer's ring, red markings on the ground indicated where the fighting ring ended.

"I made dinner," she started.

Nodding, he sniffed a little and wiped his face with the towel around his neck. "Let me shower and change and I'll be right out."

Nodding back to him, she looked as though she was about to leave but instead pivoted slightly and walked further into the room. "When did you start training?" She asked quietly.

"When I was twelve," he answered. "Alfred and I were in town and we passed a karate school. I watched the students behind the glass store front and I knew I wanted to learn it."

"You didn't study karate, though, did you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her question, prompting her to explain her reasoning. "Well, what I saw you doing this morning, that wasn't karate. Or did you study more than one kind of martial art?"

He smiled thinly. "Yes, I studied more than one."

"Will you show me?" It had taken her the three hours he had disappeared into his gym to work up the nerve to ask that question.

Slightly taken aback, he started to shake his head in the negative but caught her eye and stopped the motion. "Connie…" started and paused. "Connie, I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why not?" She asked.

Licking his lips, he took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Isn't dinner ready?"

Cocking her head, her lips pulled into a frown. "Nice try. It'll keep and this is more important."

Scowling at her, he took the towel off his neck and beckoned her to the ring at the far side of the room. She was dressed in loose fitting clothes, which was good, and she didn't seem as afraid as she early in the morning, which was also good.

"Alright," he said, "stand like this." Showing her a simple stance, he decided to be safe and show her some standard moves taught in woman's self defense classes.

Half way through the combination, she smiled at him knowingly. "Bruce, you're placating me and I know it."

Walking away from him, she shook her head but kept her smile. "What kind of man hides behind a playboy image and pretends to be mediocre in business when he is actually a very driven, intelligent and sensitive person? You are too much for me, Bruce!" With that, she started towards the door.

"No one's ever called me sensitive before," he said wit a slight mocking tone.

He was rewarded with a bar bell being thrown at him. It missed by a few feet, but his eyes widened in surprise none the less.

With fire in her eyes, she put her clenched fists on her hips. "You will tell me eventually, because I am trustworthy enough to know. When you realize I'm in your corner, Bruce, you'll want to tell me."

She stormed through the door leaving him balking in her wake. Taking a deep breath, he threw the towel to the ground in frustration and followed her.

She was already in the kitchen, setting trays of cold fruit and fresh vegetables and cheeses on the table. The fish had another few minutes in the oven until it was ready.

"Connie…" He knew he was pacing and shirtless but he was beyond caring. "I don't get you. One minute you're afraid of me and the next you want me to you show moves! Make up your damn mind!"

"I'm trying to reach you!" She said. Her words were made poignant as she slammed the wooden cutting board of cheese onto the table.

Miniature wheels of brie flew into the air and one landed with a wet plopping noise into the fruit salad. They both stared at the slowly sinking cheese wheel for almost a full minute before her snickers broke the silence.

He couldn't help but laugh and within a few minutes they were both in hysterics, leaning onto kitchen chairs for support. Wiping the back of his eyes, he realized he hadn't laughed that hard in a very long time. Actually, he thought, he was probably drugged the last time he laughed like that.

Shaking her head, she picked the bits of cheese from the table and out of the fruit salad before retrieving her fish from the oven.

"Saved by the cheese," she muttered. "You're a lucky man."

Grinning, he shook his head and started for his bedroom for a very fast shower and new t-shirt. Thankful for her temper, he couldn't help but wonder if she was right. He wondered if he would want to tell her eventually. A part of him hoped so.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hugging her dozing daughter to her chest, Barbara nuzzled Mary's dark brown hair and sighed.

"When's grandpa coming back?" Mary asked.

Shrugging, Barbara shook her head. "I don't know, honey. I promise he'll be back soon, though. He needed a vacation."

"Why couldn't I go too?" The drowsy child asked.

"He needed some alone time. Remember when mommy tells you guys she needs some alone time? It doesn't mean he won't come back; I always come back to you after my alone time." Barbara had tried her hardest to explain the situation, in very watered down terms, to her children.

Neither child seemed to believe the reasons their grandfather had suddenly disappeared. Although he had called them and said goodbye, Barbara had the feeling both Mary and Jimmy were sad they hadn't been able to hug Bruce goodbye.

Smiling up at her husband, Barbara watched Dick lift Mary into his arms and carry the tired preschooler to her bedroom. It was a few minutes before he returned due to demands for bedtime stories form both children. Neither had been able to postpone sleep to hear even half the stories they had chosen.

Sitting tiredly next to his wife, he looked at her with fatigued eyes.

"Are you going to Gotham tonight?" She asked him.

Nodding, he dragged his hands down his face. "Yeah, I have to go be the Bat for the night. I shouldn't be too late, though. Timmy and Cass will be out."

Barbara wheeled away from her computer and closer to Dick. "I asked Dinah to cover Old Gotham and Helena will be patrolling Cathedral Square, so you'll have lots of backup."

Raising an eyebrow, he smiled slightly. "Expecting trouble?"

"Oswald's been expecting a shipment; I figured you would all want to be in full strength tonight. And," she leaned back in her chair a little, "I asked Cassie and Bart to take a swing around the Haven tonight."

"Got all our bases covered, huh?"

"Someone has to."

Standing, he kissed the top of her head and started into his Nightwing costume. It would do the city criminals good to see him speeding through the streets just once before he left for Gotham to change into the Batsuit.

She had already wheeled herself back to her computer while he changed. "You doing okay with all this?" Barbara looked into his shadowed face as she spoke.

Shrugging, he pulled his mask on. "I don't really have a choice. He asked me to fill in, what was I gonna say? No? Yeah right. It's…well, it's an honor, I guess."

Nodding, she pretended to type something on her computer. "Not that you really want to do this."

"Of course not!" He said a little louder than he had intended. Softening his voice, he shook his head. "I don't want to be him. I want him to be out there, working with us. I want him back here, healthy and no longer trying to kill Tim, not matter how annoying he is."

Smirking a little, she turned her head to face him. "He'll be back. In the mean time…just be sensitive to your partners out there."

Taken aback, he narrowed his eyes. "Okay Mommy Bat, what gives? Did Tim say something?"

Shaking her head, she held her hands up in a gesture of peace. "No, no one said anything. I just know it's going to be hard for them, that's all. Dinah and Helena know you're standing in, they think Bruce's off a mission somewhere and needed a presence here, though they were pretty suspicious after I put an ABP out on him."

Wincing, he pulled his long hair back into a tighter ponytail. "Oh, I'm sure that was fun to explain."

"They're still in the dark and really on my case about it. Of course, if I tell either of them the other will know. And if Dinah knows, she'll tell Ollie and then the whole League will know Bats went A.W.O.L. He'll kill me."

"After the other night with Tim, that could be literal."

She was fully aware their humor was morbid and ghastly, but she figured they had to laugh about it some time. "Well, I know Tim's no teenager any more and he really wants in the Batsuit when the time is right. You're stepping on his toes."

Dropping his jaw to his chest, he tried to reign in his thoughts. "What? I mean, I know Tim is Bats Jr. and everything, but I didn't think this would be…" He didn't know quite how to finish his statement.

"Just be sensitive. He wants it almost as much as you don't. Keep that in mind tonight. And steer clear of my operatives, they'll get something out of you about Bruce and it's my ass on the line."

Frowning, he gave her a mock salute. "Anything about Cass I should be careful of?"

Sighing, Barbara nodded. "She's even more upset than Tim is. You know the level of hero worship she reserves only for Bruce. It may have ebbed a little, thank God, but it's still there. Just give them both some space, alright, short pants? Be the Bat in your own section of the city unless otherwise needed."

Winking at her, he started towards the balcony. "What would we do without our mother hen and ultimate tactician?"

"Curl up and die," she said in all seriousness. "And thank everything good and holy I use my power for good instead of evil."

Giving an exasperated shiver, Dick grabbed his chest as though thoroughly frightened.

Tossing the nearest movable object at him, she watched as he blew her a kiss and back flipped off the balcony. He was as flippant as ever, she thought, but she also knew he would take her warnings to heart.

It wasn't easy for any of them to admit Bruce was human and flawed. It was even more difficult to think about him as mentally flawed. He had always been a master tactician and excellent strategist. To see him using any other method of thought but logic and reason made her shiver.

Sighing, she logged onto the tracking devices each of her birdies and operatives had and watched them patrol their sectors of Bruce's precious city. Barbara was going to return the city in one piece and in good condition to Bruce if it was the last thing she did. Dick may be in the Batsuit, she thought, but she was definitely the leader when Bruce was away.

Feeling the acute pressure to make sure his city and its patrons stayed safe during his absence, worked diligently to keep her people on the streets informed and up to date.

By the end of the night, she knew, she was going to be tired and haggard, but at least she would be able to look Bruce in the eye when he returned and tell him she had done her very best. That was more important than sleep and relaxation, by far, she told herself.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Fighting the urge to suddenly start smoking again, Jim shook his head and tried to think of a way to coax his granddaughter from the top of the bookshelf. She had been standing on the top of the six foot stack of books for over twenty minutes and he had yet to figure how to get her down without just pulling her down. That would definitely cause a tantrum and he didn't need her screaming at the top of her lungs in the middle of his office.

Bullock was standing in the doorway, shaking his head at the entire scene. Jimmy was dancing around the office, clapping his hands and encouraging his sister in her efforts to give their grandfather another heart attack.

"Want me to get ya' a lasso, commish?"

Scowling at his chief detective, Jim shook his head again. "No thanks." Turning his attention back to Mary, he smiled and tried to sweeten his voice. "Come on, honey, get down for grampa Jim," he held his arms out to her in a vain attempt to get her to jump to him.

Shaking her head, she danced around his hands in evasive moves her other grandfather had taught her. Daddy had scowled a lot, she remembered, but Grandpa Bruce had insisted she learn basic self defense and evasion. Whatever she had learned though, she thought, had been fun putting into practice.

Bullock scowled. The commissioner was well into his sixties and had suffered through two heart attacks. The last guy that had replaced Gordon, Bullock remembered, had been a real idiot and hadn't lasted all that long. There was no way he was going to watch yet another man try and replace Jim Gordon, the best cop and commissioner that had ever walked through Gotham.

"Hey kid," Bullock called, "I'm about to call your mother and tell her what a snot you're being."

Normally, Uncle Bullock was fun and kind of inappropriate. Now, Mary thought, he was mean and no fun to play with. Diving into her grandfather's arms, she scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn't even throw a fit because she was sure her mom would be notified of that as well.

Her brother was still dancing around and laughing and after a moment of sulking she joined him. She didn't understand the game but she didn't care. As long as she was moving, she was happy. Jimmy liked to sit in front of the computer and play with programming. She needed to move as much as humanly possible.

Releasing a slow breath, Jim settled behind his desk and collected himself. Watching his grandchildren was something he treasured, but there were times he wished they could come to him when they were already tired and compliant. He seemed to have responsibility for them when they channeling hell demons.

"I got a hit for you on those recent robberies, Commish." Setting the thin manila envelope on the cluttered desk, Bullock leaned against the wall closest to the desk and crossed his arms.

Gordon's frown deepened as he read on. "Damn it," he muttered.

Both children looked up at him and snickered. They were going to blackmail him with that, he thought. Bruce was a stickler about cursing in front of children; Dick had been raised in a cuss free environment and was determined to bring his children up in much the same manner.

Jim wished him luck but knew it was going to be impossible to do since the twins spent so much time in the police station. Jim figured Dick would have an easier time preventing them from being exposed to acrobatics.

"We need help on this one." Jim caught his detective's eye and saw the same old dislike reflected back at him.

"We don't need no bat, but if you want…"

It had taken years for Bullock to work with the bats, as he thought of them, with something of a professional manner. It had taken nearly thirty years of Batman working on the streets of Gotham, but he had finally earned the respect, if grudgingly, of most of the Gotham City Police Department, Detective Bullock included.

The twins tried not to be too quiet or too loud. They wanted to listen to the conversation but not give themselves away as eavesdropping. They knew, with absolute certainty, they could in no way hint to the fact that they knew Batman. It had been impressed on them from birth that the Bat family and real family were to be kept separate.

Mary chaffed at the infringement more than did Jimmy. She wanted to stand on rooftops and scream that her grandfather was Batman and he was the coolest grandfather any kid had ever had. Jimmy seemed calmer with the arrangement. He was perfectly happy discriminating between Batman and grandpa.

Nightwing and daddy were two different people, as far as Jimmy was concerned. His daddy was Nightwing, sometimes, but most of the time he was just daddy. Grandpa Bruce was sometimes Batman, but like his daddy, he was mostly just grandpa. The fact that he could do cool fighting moves and make stuff blow up was an added bonus, Jimmy thought.

Batman was Mary's grandfather. She liked the regular, every day personas, of her family members, but their lives behind their masks were much more fascinating to her. She had asked her mom why her daddy wasn't Nightwing all the time, but the resulting scowl had been enough to make her not ask such questions again.

It was strange though, her young mind concluded in a crude way, that grandpa Bruce wasn't Batman all the time. Batman was obviously cooler and got to live in the cave and play with amazing toys and wear an awesome suit. Grandpa Bruce lived in a big house and bought them presents, but he was no Batman.

Sighing, she tried to appear as if she wasn't thinking about things her mommy had warned her not to think about. She always got into trouble when she thought too much about such things. She wasn't even five years old, her mommy had said, she shouldn't be thinking about things like secret identities and crime fighting.

Jim had watched the emotions playing on Mary's face and shot her a warning glare before continuing talking with Bullock. Mary had her grandfather's brilliance but her father's lack of control in regard to facial expressions. Mary's mind and heart were constantly written on her face.

"Keep on this. We have to crack this before anymore people get killed. Just keep the media away from it."

Bullock frowned. He hated talking in front of the twins, but found it necessary when the Commissioner brought them into the office. It wasn't as if he could just leave them in a holding cell, Bullock thought. Imagining that for a moment, he allowed his lips to quirk up in a smile.

"I got people working it. No one's leaking anything and the papers haven't put the pieces together yet. So far, all the robberies have been viewed as separate incidences. Only a handful of guys around here know the link."

Nodding, Jim stood and grabbed his coat from the coat rack in the corner of the room. "We'll crack this. Keep on it. I've to get to get these guys to my apartment and get them fed before their parents get them."

With that, he had zipped his grandchildren into their jackets and was whisking them down the hallway after a quick goodbye to Bullock, his secretary and the loitering detectives in the hallway.

Most commissioners before Jim Gordon had settled into offices in the City Hall building or an annex thereof. Jim had always subscribed to the philosophy that the further away a leader was, the more likely his followers would be to stray from the path. His office was in the middle of the police headquarters, one floor above the chief of police's office.

Shaking his head at the thought of his chief of police, he put away all thoughts of his work and concentrated on the drive to his apartment. The two small and rather loud children in the back served as an excellent distraction.

Sparing a quick thought for their other grandfather, he hoped the man returned from his vacation soon. Taking the twins every other weekend was not something he felt a man of his age was equipped to do. Visiting them while they stayed with Bruce was far easier on his fraying nerves.

Smiling at a story Jimmy was telling of an evil preschool teacher, Jim sighed and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. He was too old to stand in the rain and chase serial killers and talk to bats on rooftops. He was definitely too old, he told himself, to watch rambunctious preschoolers with genius level intellects and a penchant for trouble.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Sitting on the plan, he stole a glance in her direction. His exile was over and though he had wanted to stay with her in paradise as long as possible, an inherent need to get back to his city convinced him to pack and start the journey back to Gotham.

She had been quiet since boarding the plane. They had bonded in the few weeks in Italy and she hadn't really wanted to leave. There was nothing much to go back to, she thought. She had decided to quit her job at the hospital in favor of working with Leslie at the clinic.

Leaning against the window, she looked down at the clouds and sighed. They had made love dozens of times and walked hand in hand on the beach. They had watched the sun set and rise together and swam out further in the ocean than was probably safe. They had scaled the craggy mountain side and perused the town like a honeymooning couple.

She hadn't pushed him to be honest with her and had left him to his own devices when he seemed he needed solitude. He had spent a great deal of time working out, she thought, but hadn't felt it right to pressure him for answers. He had made it clear more than once that he wouldn't confide in her until he felt like it.

The stubborn man was lightly dragging his finger tip around the rim of his water glass with a far away look in his eyes. He was a man, she thought, that was uncomfortable being unsure of himself. He struck her as someone who normally was very sure of himself.

"Penny for your thoughts…"

Jolted from his thoughts, Bruce turned to her and smiled slightly. "I'm not sure they're worth that much," he lied. He was sure the thoughts torturing his mind would be worth billions on the black market. Supervillians would pay handsomely to learn the secrets of the Dark Knight.

She smiled. "I think that was a line in a movie from long ago. It was a romance."

They sat, staring into each eyes for a few minutes. Standing, he made his way across the isle to the seat next to her and sat down. "What will you do when we get back?"

Shrugging, she tried to appear casual. "I'm going to spend more time at the clinic."

Frowning, he seemed visually unhappy with that answer. "You're quitting your job." His tone conveyed that he was making an observation rather than asking a question.

"Yes," she said, her tone defensive, "I am. I want to do what I like and I like working at the clinic."

"Fair enough." Staring at her a moment longer than was necessary, he released a slow breath. "I'm not sure what I can give you once we arrive back in Gotham."

She knew just what he was trying to say. "I understand. This was supposed to be a fling anyway, Bruce. Don't worry. You don't even have to call me if you don't want to. I…" She felt her voice slip away as his face slowly registered shock. "Um…sorry, did I say something wrong?"

Licking his suddenly dry lips, he looked at her with an incredulous and slightly annoyed expression. "I didn't mean that, Connie. I meant…everything you asked of me during the last few weeks…I never answered your questions. I want to see you, but I can't give you anymore than what I already have."

Her face immediately registered a bright smile. "Good companionship and great sex. I guess it could be worse."

Staring through her veneer of humor, his frown deepened. "Connie…" His voice had a warning tone, "I'm being serious. I don't want you to think I don't…"

"Stop. Just stop." Putting her hand up with her palm facing him she looked disgusted but determined. "Let's not talk about this anymore. Don't bare your heart right now. When you're ready to let me know you, then I'll get to know all of you. So, just…just stop."

Nodding slowly, he turned away from her and rubbed his temples. "As you wish Connie."

Standing again, he returned to his own seat across from her and studied his water glass once again. Taking a deep breath, he leaned his head against his closed fist and rested his elbow on the arm rest of his seat.

It was time to concentrate on returning to his life, he told himself. Connie wanted much more than he could give, was willing to give, he thought. He had taken the necessary time to heal his mind and she had been a soothing balm most of the time of his overseas vacation.

The first call he had made before starting to pack his bags had been to Alfred. Bruce's oldest friend and confidant had sounded pleased to hear that he would be returning home. Bruce's second phone call had been to Dick, who had been markedly less pleased than Alfred to learn of Bruce's returning home.

His son had tried to convince him to stay away longer. Dick had wanted Bruce to be sure he was ready to return to the streets. In response, Bruce had, in few words, explained he wasn't returning to the suit. He was returning to his city to continue his retraining of himself.

Looking towards Connie once again, Bruce tried to keep himself from thinking about her. She was a complication he did not need. He needed to reconcile with his family members, regain their trust and prove to himself he was once again worthy and ready to be Batman.

Once he had accomplished those tasks, he had to find Talia and bring her to justice. There was no doubt in his mind that she was alive and plotting once again. There was no time, it seemed, with all the tasks he had to accomplish to have a relationship with Connie.

Bristling slightly at the thought that he was starting to become addicted to her, he told himself he simply enjoyed her company and the peace she seemed to bring him. In spite of her pride and stubborn personality, she calmed him. She made him enjoy himself.

She was complicated and willful and was certainly going to cause him pain when she died. His chest seized with pain at the thought of her death and it was with great difficulty that he swallowed his distress.

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he took a deep breath and started listing for himself everything he had to accomplish. A conversation with Tim was first on his list, he thought. Frowning at that, Bruce thought to himself he would rather walk over hot coals than talk to Tim. Actually, he knew from experience that walking over hot coals would be easier, he told to himself.

Glancing at his watch, he fought the urge to sigh. It would be another four hours before their plane landed and then he would have to face his family. Convincing the pilot to turn the plane around and return to hiding in Italy was a much more pleasant idea.

Convincing himself to stay seated, he glanced at Connie once again. She was staring at him with one raised eyebrow and a smirk pulling at her lips.

"What?" He suddenly knew how women Bruce Wayne leered at felt.

Her lips quirked upwards even more. "I was just thinking…"

He decided to take the bait and prompt her. "About…"

She recognized her mood swings for what they were and what they were connected to, but decided to follow her whims instead of fighting for greater control over herself. Standing, she approached him and instead of sitting next to him, sat on his lap.

"You know what they say about planes, don't you?"

Smiling ever so slightly, he gently put his hands on either side of her hips. "You are very confusing."

Smiling, she leaned towards him and brushed his lips with his. "Just go with it, Bruce."

Smiling, he figured her distraction would at least make the flight pass a little faster. Allowing her to distract him from his thoughts and plans, he captured her lips with his and pulled her closer to him. She was a dangerous distraction, but one he could not seem to withstand.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The gloves felt cool against his skin, the armor heavy. The scent of the cave still lingered in his nostrils and he could feel the hair on his chin bristle against the wind. Gotham was all around him; the breeze, the sounds, the smells were the very essence of his city. Everything was Gotham and he, for the first time in weeks, felt an old familiar feeling envelop him.

Standing atop the Wayne building, peering down into his city, his blood started to course faster through his veins. Just the anticipation of the night was enough to start his adrenaline pumping. Like a man starved for food, he craved his city. Desire grasped his heart with an iron like grip and he knew for sure he had made the right choice.

Alfred had smiled sadly and Dick had been relieved but apprehensive. Tim had been carefully guarded. Bruce was no fool; he knew they thought he wasn't ready. They had nearly begged him to wait longer, to train and be with them more before returning to the suit. He had been adamant that he had been away long enough.

With a shake of his head and slight squeeze to Alfred's shoulders, he had donned the cape and cowl two weeks after returning to Gotham. Now, standing so far above the ground, a slight smile tugged at his lips. He had missed the feeling, he thought. His desire had never ebbed, but he had been able to ignore it for a few weeks during his recuperation.

Connie had elected to go straight home from the airport upon their return and he had not been saddened by that. Their journey together had satiated his need for her for the time being, he hoped, and he had simply kissed her goodbye and left for the manor with a small smile and wave.

They had spoken occasionally in the following weeks but he had elected to keep from seeing her. Being back in Gotham had reminded him how hard he would have to work and how much he needed his city and his city needed him. He did not need Connie in those weeks, he thought.

At that moment he needed to soar above the streets. He needed to fly through the night air like a wraith. Leaping head first from the spire, he cleared the edge of the building by inches. Launching a grapple line the familiar pain in his shoulder almost made him laugh.

He was complete, he thought. Breathing deeply, he arched his body and soared in a curve round and over a building. Tugging the line and flicking his wrist just right caused the line to loosen and he free fell as the inner machinery of the grapple retracted the line.

It took seconds for the line to retract and by that time his cape was opened and converted into a glider. Merely gliding he chose to focus on feeling the sensation of flight instead of the crime that was going on below for just a moment. Swooping closer to the streets, a tightness in his chest signaled the coming waves of oppression and anger he would soon feel.

Soon he would come across victims he couldn't save and criminals he couldn't stop. He would find women and children battered and murdered and men lying dead with bullet holes marring their bodies. To fly was to be free but to land was to dive straight into the depths of hell.

Even the pain, though, he welcomed. It was familiar and his love-hate relationship with his city consumed his entire being like a security blanket would a child. The rush and the agony and the righteous indignation swirled together to create a unique feeling he had come to only associate with being Batman in his city.

His first night back in the suit was arduous and left him no shortage of bruises and abrasions. The drive back to cave allowed him not only to calm and center himself but to take stalk of his injuries and mentally compile the files he would need to update.

Tim was already sitting in the chair in front of the main console. His back was ramrod straight and his face carefully schooled into a mask of calm. Bruce's insides started to twist as he realized the conversation that was about to take place. Since Bruce's arrival back home he and Tim had been careful to avoid speaking more than necessary. The entire time, though, Bruce had known he would need to have a serious conversation with his partner.

Tim refused to make eye contact, as if speaking to the computer screen in front of him would be easier than speaking to Bruce directly. "You've been avoiding me," he started.

Swallowing hard, Bruce dragged a hand through his hair. The adrenaline from the night had all but disappeared and in its wake was left a holiness and fatigue that sometimes overwhelmed him. "You've been avoiding me, too," he pointed out.

"That's mature," Tim ground out through clenched teeth.

Approaching the younger man, Bruce gently laid his hand on Tim's shoulder and took a deep breath. Letting his shoulders droop and his body language soften, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Tim."

So much was conveyed in those three words Tim almost immediately broke his thinly held veneer of control. Instead, standing quickly, he put physical distance between he and Bruce. Pacing violently for a moment, he finally settled into a position with his arms crossed over his chest.

"For which part?" He spat.

"All of it," was the only thing Bruce could think to say.

Tim was not so easily cowed. "You tried to kill me."

Nodding, Bruce answered immediately and without hesitation. "Yes."

"You chose Dick over me."

Stunned into momentary silence, Bruce's eyes narrowed as he shook his head. "That never happened, Tim…"

Cutting him off, Tim took a step forward. "You chose him to be Batman! It's been two weeks since you got back and you never told me you were sorry, not that I expected you to! You never apologize for anything, but you've never tried to kill me before! And you never told me I wasn't good enough before either!"

Puzzle pieces collided in his mind and Bruce reached back to tear off the cape and cowl that hung at his back. "You think I asked Dick to take over because I didn't think you were good enough?"

Nodding, Tim kept his posture rigid and his facial features taught.

"I see," was all Bruce said for a moment. Taking a seat in his now vacated chair, he shook his head. "Tim, I have known for some time that you would be taking over as Batman. Dick doesn't want the job and even if he did…you'd be better at it. I've been waiting for the right time to talk to you about it. There are a lot of reasons I didn't ask you to fill in for me in my absence. I'm not going to explain them all, but know that none of the reasons had anything to do with you being inadequate in any way."

Swallowing hard, Tim allowed his posture to relax slightly. "You really think I could do this?"

Nodding, Bruce chose to steer the conversation in another direction. "You're more upset with me because of who I chose as a temporary replacement than because I tried to kill you."

With a shrugged shoulder and flippant hand gesture, Tim responded, "you didn't mean to. You'd never try to hurt me unless you didn't have all your senses."

"I'm sorry anyway." Bruce kept his features neutral but the emotions roaring inside of him threatened to spill forth. It had taken a month for him to confront the idea that he had almost hurt Tim. He hadn't even started the process of thinking about the lives he had taken. Part of him recognized that he would work through it by working for and in Gotham.

"I know," Tim said. "That wasn't you. And Bruce…it wasn't you in that complex either. Just know that we all know that, okay? You and I aren't the heart to heart kind of guys, you know? But I need you to know that we don't blame you for anything."

With a curt nod Bruce stood and started towards the showers. He was not going to listen to Tim explain how much it wasn't his fault he had ripped two mens' throats out. As successful as his first night back had been, it had not been successful enough that he would feel healed. That would take years of penance.

Tim collapsed back into the chair and covered his face with his hands. He didn't move or react when he heard Cassandra's motorcycle arrive. She was next to him in an instant with her quiet reassuring presence almost forcing him to speak to her.

"I finally talked to him."

"I've been waiting for that," she responded as she removed her cowl.

Tim didn't change his position in the chair. "He told me I was just as good as Dick…better, I guess. He said he was sorry."

She nodded. "What else?"

"I said…I told him it wasn't his fault."

Cassandra knew just what Tim was referring to and sighed heavily. "And," she prompted.

Tim heaved a mighty sigh and dragged himself from the chair. "He went to take a shower."

Nodding again, Cassandra patted him jovially on the back. "Well, you talked!"

Her forced and unnatural cheerfulness made Tim want to be sick. "Thanks Cass." Turning he started towards the locker room, stripping off his uniform piecemeal on the way there. Cass wasn't far behind him. They went their separate ways once in the locker area.

Avoiding Tim, Bruce left the showers and wandered into his cave. Dragging a towel through his hair, he started up the stairs. His life had been a roller coaster, and this night had been no exception, he thought. He didn't remember how he had come to arrive in his bedroom, but as his exhausted body climbed under the covers of his bed he couldn't convince himself to care.

The next day would likely bring the same pain and pleasure, he thought. At least his first night back in the suit was behind him. The second would certainly be a little easier, if only because he was readjusted, he told himself. Part of him laughed at that idea. A little voice in his mind told him not to lie to himself; readjusting would take much longer than one night.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Her heart and head were heavy as she sat in front of the computer screen blinking back fatigue and the burning behind her eyes threatening to force her to stop working. Bruce had been back on the streets for a week which meant her husband had been back in Bludhaven full time. Barbara had thought that would mean that Dick would be in a better mood but she had been proven extremely wrong.

Dick had not hidden the fact that he thought Bruce should have waited longer to reclaim his mantle. Bruce's stubbornness not withstanding, though, Barbara had assumed life would return to normal.

In the days since Dick had returned to the streets of Bludhaven he had been merciless to criminals and insensitive to his wife and children. She told herself she could understand Dick's worry for Bruce but she could tolerate his moods no longer.

Glancing up at the flowing curtains in front of the suddenly open balcony doors, she held her breath for a moment in anticipation as Nightwing stepped inside. His visage alone was enough to cause warning signals to flash in her head; when she took into account his posture and bleeding arm she knew her morning would not be a pleasant one.

"I'll get the kit," she said without preamble. There was no use in starting what was sure to be a fight if he was losing too much blood to concentrate, she thought.

Collapsing stiffly onto the couch Dick removed his mask and the upper portion of his suit and body armor. He watched in silence as his wife attended to his wounds.

"Rough night?" she asked.

"You heard the whole thing, Babs. You know what happened." Realizing his tone was biting, he tried to smile apologetically but felt he failed.

Nodding, she finished cleaning the stab wound and started to adhere the sides of the wound together with artificial liquid skin. "Yeah, I heard. You did good, Dick. Don't beat yourself up over a scratch."

Scoffing, he indicated his arm with his good hand, "that isn't a scratch. If I had blocked differently it would have been an artery and…"

"Good thing you blocked properly then, isn't it?" Her eyes bore into his and her face communicated clearly that she was not going to tolerate thoughts involving Dick bleeding to death on some roof top or alley.

Looking away he dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. "Sorry Babs. I'm alright."

"Convincing me or you? It doesn't need stitches now, by the way." Setting the liquid skin and gauze back into its container, she slouched back in her chair and appraised him. "That should hold if you're careful for a few days, until it knit together on its own. It you open it, though, it'll need stitches."

He nodded at her and contemplated his boots. They sat in silence for a time, each wondering how to continue the conversation. Avoidance was not an option, Dick knew, and his wife would forcibly drag from him what was bothering him. Swallowing hard he wondered when he had started taking after Bruce in internalizing.

"What's eating you, small fry?" A small smile curled her lips but it failed to reach her eyes.

Wincing at her obvious unhappiness with him, he collected his thoughts for a moment before speaking. "He's going to get himself killed, Babs. He shouldn't be out there. He needs time off. I know he took a month, but…he killed two people. He tried to kill Tim. He's in a new relationship…I just don't understand why he can't take more time…"

An entirely unladylike laugh escaped her lips. "Are you kidding me? Dick, you know him. Bane broke his back and he got back into the suit. He lost Jason and he got back into the suit. He needs the suit just as much as he needs to breathe…maybe more. I'm surprised he took as much time as he did."

Standing, Dick paced the length of Barbara's war room. "Yeah I get that, Babs. He raised me, remember? I know him pretty well. It's just…he can't be alright! He just can't be! I know how much he beats himself up and he just cannot be operating at top speed right now.

I know he's faster and stronger and all that stuff…but he's…he just can't be ready. It'll get him killed. It's like going out there with fear toxin in your veins, or joker venom even. There's no way he isn't all erratic and over-working himself. I just know…"

"Okay, slow down." It was time to slow the ranting, Babs thought. "I hear you, okay. I get what you're saying and I agree with you. That being said, though, you can't do anything about any of that. All you can do is be there in case he goes over the edge."

Looking sadly into his wife's eyes, he nodded. "I need to shower, Babs."

Sighing, she turned from him. It seemed as time passed that Dick was slowly growing to resemble Bruce more and more. Since donning the cape and cowl and assuming the mantle of the bat for a short time, Dick had assimilated certain aspects of Bruce's personality Barbara found less than favorable.

She was comfortable with over working and self sacrificing but withdrawing from those around him was not an option for Dick. Rubbing her sore eyes she looked up and into her computer monitor. Frowning she wheeled herself to the monitors and started trying to open a channel to Bruce.

Batman had been stationary for over ten minutes. Telling herself Dick's worry over Bruce's safety had rubbed off on her, she calmed herself and again tried to establish communications with Batman. When her third attempt failed, she allowed herself to become slightly worried. There was no reason Batman would maintain absolute radio silence unless he had no other choice. He had been known to ignore her, but not when she her calls had a high priority status.

Trying to keep her voice steady, she opened the communication to Tim. "Robin, what's your status?"

The sound of rushing wind made it difficult to hear Tim's response. "I'm on the train, passing the R.H. Kane building, O. What's up?"

"Batman's been in Cathedral Square for nearly fifteen minutes. He hasn't moved and he isn't answering calls."

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. "When did you install a tracker in his suit? I thought he found the last one and destroyed it."

Gritting her teeth, she took a quick breath. "That really isn't important. What's important is that I've hailed him on the standard frequency once and with urgency twice after that. No response any time. How soon can you get there?"

With little worry in his voice, Robin responded. "ETA ten minutes. That's the quickest I can manage Babs. Where's Cass?"

"Even further. She's in old Gotham. Huntress is in Robbinsville and Canary's with Ollie on League Business. You'll get there the fastest."

Closing the line she put her head in her hands and sighed. Swallowing hard she listened to Dick step out of the bathroom and climb the half flight of stairs to her war room. He stopped short when he saw her.

Finding his legs again he started towards her with quick steps. "Oh geese, Babs, honey, I'm sorry. I didn't think you were this upset. Honestly, I just…"

"It isn't that, Dick." Straightening up in her chair, she sighed again. "It probably isn't a big deal. Bruce hasn't answered my calls. He's been in the same spot for a while now…I sent Tim to check on him…" Before she had finished Dick was grabbing at his costume he had left strewn on the couch.

Trying to calm her husband, she used her most convincing tone. "Dick, by the time you get there Tim will have found him and…done whatever necessary. He goes silent all the time, you know that."

"I knew this would happen. I knew it. He should never have…"

Robin's frantic voice sucked the air from Barbara and Dick's lungs. "Where was that tracer, Babs?"

Dick was dressed and out the window before Barbara had caught her breath enough to respond. "His belt. The tracer was in his belt."

"I found the belt but there's no Batman. I'm searching for him now."

"I'll send help. Find him Tim." Leaning back in her chair, she gripped the arm rests of her chair so tightly her knuckles whitened. After sending messages to both Batgirl and Huntress, Barbara said a quick prayer. She thought everyone would need all the help they could get.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thank you all for being so very patient with my lack of updating as of late. I am going to attempt to post once a week, but please don't hold me to that! I want to thank all of you who have been reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it. I would like to request that people refrain from posting 'flames.' If you don't like the story, don't read it. Fan fiction writers do not get paid and most are not professional writers. Personally, I write and post just for fun. Flames can be sent via personal messaging through my profile. To those of you who have been patiently waiting and reading - thank you again and I hope you continue to enjoy this!

Louie Pastiche - I always enjoy your comments! Thank you for reading and reviewing as diligently as you do!

d - Thank you for your comments, they are always appreciated!

* * *

Chapter 12

Tapping her pen rather loudly against her desk, Connie sighed. Grant proposals had to be written, she knew. She just didn't think they had to be written by her. It was nearly two in the morning, if the clock on her desk was to be believed. The clinic had been busy in the weeks since she had returned with Bruce from Italy and she had routinely been putting in fourteen hour days.

Leslie had inserted a second desk into her small office to accommodate Connie, which meant Connie was doing more paperwork than she had before her trip. Client care was where her heart was, but Connie understood Leslie's need for help with administration.

Stifling a yawn, she stood and stretched her tired arms above her head. Deciding it was finally time to quit for the day, she pulled her shawl around her shoulders and collected her belongings from the desk. Grant proposals could wait until after she had a few hours sleep, she decided.

It had taken a few days to decide that Bruce was not going to call her. Convincing herself they had a fling and nothing more, she had buried her grief and dove into her work. It had been more than two weeks and he had neglected to call or write her. In an effort not to appear desperate she had refused to call him.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder she closed the door behind her, not bothering to lock it. Leslie would return to the office sometime in the wee hours of the morning and turn the lights off and lock the door. Dragging herself down the stairs Connie nodded and smiled to the underpaid nurses in the hallways.

Smiling, she found her haggard looking friend signing orders at the modest nurses' station. "I'm going for the night, Leslie."

"You mean you're going for the day, don't you?" Giving her a warm grin, Leslie finished with her files and came around the desk. "The night's nearly over."

"I know," Connie said, nodding, "I'll be finished with the paperwork in the next few days. There are only a few more details to add to the grant proposal."

"There will be time for that, Connie. There's never enough money to go around and yet we somehow always manage." Patting Connie on the shoulder with one hand, Leslie indicated the door with the other hand. "Go get some sleep so you'll be of some use to me tomorrow. And don't you dare come in before nine."

Smiling as brightly as she could manage in her fatigued state, Connie nodded her acquiescence. "You get some sleep yourself, Leslie. I'll see you in the morning."

With a slight wave, Leslie watched Connie leave through the door. Sighing, she tucked her hair behind her ear and started to the back of the clinic. The nurses could do without her for a few minutes, she thought.

The small canteen in the back of the clinic housed a coffee maker and small refrigerator with enough in it to keep those working in the clinic alive and conscious. Patients that looked half starved and children that were too weak or thin were always offered whatever was in the kitchen, even if it was only milk and peanut butter crackers.

Pouring herself a coffee, a noise above her startled her into spilling the tepid liquid onto the kitchen floor. Looking up, she swallowed hard and started for the stairs to the upstairs offices. Her office was directly above the canteen and she knew of only one person who frequented her office by way of the window.

Throwing open the door, her breath caught at the sight of Bruce, in full Batman regalia, struggling for breath on the floor below the window.

Rushing to him, she grasped his shoulders and tried to help him from the ground. "Bruce! Dear God, what happened?"

"Ubu. He…" Groaning, he dropped back to his knees.

"Don't speak," she urged. "Damn it, get all of this off."

Gasping for breath, he pulled himself back to a standing position and stumbled towards the couch at the far side of the room. Holding his chest with both hands he fell onto the couch while Leslie removed his mask and cape.

"Hit me…chest. Got my belt."

"Stop talking, Bruce." Pulling her stethoscope from her lab coat pocket she listened to both sides of his lungs. "You might've collapsed a lung, I can't tell with this all in my way. How the hell hard did he hit you?"

Taking her question as rhetorical he struggled to remove the final pieces of armor from the top half of his suit. "Lock the door," he managed through gasps.

Disgusted that he had more concern for the door than for his lack of ability to breath, she none the less stood and started towards the entrance. "No one comes up here Bruce. We're alone."

He was about to respond when the door opened, knocking Leslie back a step and whatever air remained in Bruce's lungs out of him. With eyes suddenly as wide as her face, Connie stood in the doorway staring at Bruce still wearing the bottom half of his suit.

"I…" her voice escaped her in a whisper. "I forgot my keys."

A stabbing pain soared through his chest and suddenly Bruce could concentrate on nothing more that fact that he could no longer breathe. Leaning forward so that his chest was near his knees, he grabbed her chest so hard he knew he would have bruises in the morning.

Leslie's senses came back to her in an instant. "Lock the door, Connie." Rushing towards Bruce once more she grabbed him and pulled him to the floor. "Get me a syringe!"

Grabbing the bag Leslie normally used to make home visits Connie pulled the largest syringe there was and rushed to Bruce's side, plunging it into his chest in one fluid motion.

Gasping for breath that he felt he had been deprived of for years Bruce let his head rest against the carpet.

"Why didn't you call for help?" Leslie demanded as she assessed his cracked ribs and the cut above his left eye. She thought he probably had a concussion.

"Tasered my head…blew the earpieces…" Closing his eyes, he tried to channel the pain from his head and chest into something productive.

Turning to look behind her, Connie couldn't help but focus on the cowl hanging over the arm of the couch and the cape lying on the floor in a silken puddle. Covering her mouth with her hand, she tried to control her ragged breathing. Suddenly everything unexplained and odd about Bruce snapped together in her mind and she was shocked into stillness.

Seeing the horror playing across Connie's face, Leslie took her by the shoulder. "Get out of here, Connie. I can deal with him. Go home."

Bring her eyes up to look into Leslie's she paused a moment before shaking her head. "Absolutely not," she whispered.

Forcing her mind out of shock and into the mode of a physician she started addressing Bruce's wounds. It was unconscionable to imagine Bruce as the fabled Batman roaming the streets and taking justice out on criminals.

Opening his eyes only a slit, he stared up at Connie's impenetrable face. Allowing himself a moment of pure grief, he emitted a low groan before falling into unconsciousness. The depths of darkness were not as frightening as facing her at that moment.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Her fingernails were bitten to nubs and she was pretty sure her stomach had turned itself inside out. Swallowing hard, she looked back towards the couch where an unconscious half dressed Batman lay.

Dragging her hands through her hair she stared at the chest she had laid her head against and the arms she had gripped during so many passionate embraces. His dark hair, nearly blue in the light, lay damply on his forehead like black silk and she fought the urge to brush it away. The shoulders she had admired so many times for their broadness and sureness were moving ever so slightly as his chest rose and fell.

Part of her had wanted to wake him after he had fallen into unconscious. The other part of her had wanted to sedate him. She had been spared making a decision of whether to wake him and fight or sedate him and stew. Leslie had quickly injected him with pain killers and sedatives and set about to mending his injuries.

Forcing her mind into the mode of a doctor, she had bandaged his ribs and head and rushed to the clinic below for a bag of blood. Leslie's couch had then turned into a makeshift hospital bed and her office into a clinic room. Bruce lay on the couch, breathing evenly due to the pain killers.

"I'm sorry this happened this way Connie."

Turning to look at Leslie, Connie shook her head in disbelief. "How long have you known?"

Sighing heavily, Leslie slouched in her chair. "I've always known. He told me a few nights into this mad crusade. Of course I knew something like this was going to happen. He trained all his life for this."

Stopping her pacing Connie leaned against the wall, never taking her eyes from Bruce's form. "He's…does this happen often?" She wasn't sure what she wanted to ask or how to ask it. She wanted to know everything but wasn't sure where to start.

Shrugging ever so slightly the older woman sighed again. "Every so often he's hurt very badly. This is…inconsequential considering some of the other injuries he's come through. I'm sure he'll be alright."

"I'm sure," Connie agreed in a whisper. "Why does he do this?"

"You'll have to read the papers to find that out, my dear." Smiling ever so slightly Leslie stood as she spoke.

Stirring from what was undoubtedly, he thought, a drug induced stupor Bruce started to pull himself into a sitting situation. A none to gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him before he could fully right himself.

"You will go nowhere. You collapsed a ling and cracked three ribs. You're lucky you didn't puncture a lung. You needed a pint of blood; your head bled for nearly twenty minutes. Now lie down."

Scowling at Leslie, Bruce took a moment to try and stare her down before continuing to pull himself into a sitting position. Recognizing she was not going to win the argument Leslie stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. Grasping at his own chest Bruce winced. Ubu had thrown him into the wall hard enough to cause his ribs to crack and his lung to collapse. He owed the henchmen a very hard hit for that.

"You look like Superman hit you," Leslie said.

"If Superman had hit me I'd be a pile of jelly on the pavement," he responded in his normal gravelly tone.

Images of broken glass being crushed underfoot and sandpaper on vocal cords came to her mind as Connie winced. Swallowing hard she hoped to blend directly into the wall to avoid his eyes. She was not so lucky.

Looking towards her, Bruce's face darkened even further. There was no way to undo what was done though, he told himself. Fighting to take small breaths he reached toward the arm of the couch and retrieved the cowl that had been shoved half way between couch cushions.

The radio in the ear piece was damaged beyond repair. Having his head Tasered made for a hell of a headache and incredibly fried circuitry, Bruce thought. Releasing the cowl to the floor Bruce started to sigh but ended up wincing. Forcing himself to move past the pain he stood and walked to the phone. He had fought with worse, his weeks out of suit must have softened him, he told himself.

Lifting the receiver he dialed a number he had long since memorized. The connection with the batcave computer registered and he entered a series of numbers using the touch pads. Any of his team in the area would receive a message not unlike Morse code alerting them to his location. He reasoned going through those motions was much easier than calling Barbara. Avoiding her screaming was probably a good idea considering the state of his head.

Watching these proceedings with impatience, Leslie finally spoke. "You know a taser to the head could have permanently disabled you? You could have been left a drooling amnesiac."

"That's why my suit dampens electrical current," he responded shortly.

Turning to look in Connie's direction he saw the pain and confusion in her eyes had turned to something like rage. Staring into her no longer warm brown eyes he waited for her to make the first move.

"Polo, huh?" She finally said.

His tongue responded before his brain had caught up. "What?"

Speaking slowly, as to a mentally handicapped child, she spoke with barely concealed fire. "Our first date. At lunch. You told me you injured yourself playing polo. I think now is the time I call bullshit."

Taking a deep breath and immediately regretting it Bruce set his teeth on edge. His voice was icy when he spoke. "I don't think your services are needed any longer Doctor."

Shock registered across her face as her lips fell open and her brain fought for words. Leslie's face mirrored hers.

Connie's tone matched his in cold fury. "I'd slap you if I thought your head wouldn't pop off your body."

Keeping silent he watched and waited for her next response. Hearing none he turned to the pieces of armor scattered by the couch and started to collect them. He could hear Connie's breath becoming more and more ragged behind him as he worked. A small sound escaped her lips every few seconds as if she was trying to force herself to speak words that were stuck in her throat.

A few moments later the words unleashed themselves. "You bastard! None of it meant anything to you? None of it? I don't believe that! I found you that night on the bridge and I saw through you! I saw right into you! I see through this too you damned liar!" At his lack of response she stomped to him and with little regard for his ribs grabbed his arm to force him to face her. "Look at me damn it!"

"I'm looking at you," he whispered. "What am I supposed to see?"

He watched as her heart broke. Emotions fluttered across her face and he violently repressed the urge to apologize. He wanted desperately to crush her to him and whisper assurances into her hair. He wanted her sweet scent and soft body and warm skin against him and comforting him. Protecting her was more important than his needs though and so he strove to push her away with only the indifference in his eyes.

His guilt over the idea of leaving her, his desire to save and protect him was second to his need to keep her from his night life. She was safe if she was present in parts of his being but her innocence, her very sanity, would be compromised if she understood the depths of his obsession and dark desires.

Stepping back from him she drew a ragged breath as a single tear fell from her eye. It had been a fling until she had seen him that night. She had deluded herself until she had fully understood him. Holding the secret to his being in her hands for only a moment before the significance of that had been torn from her hurt deeply. She had solved the greatest puzzle of her life and it suddenly meant nothing.

Turning from him she grabbed her bag from the floor and her keys from her desk and was to the door before Leslie could speak. The older woman's calls were lost to the wind as Connie ran down the steps and through the back halls of the clinic and into the cool night air.

Turning to Bruce with fiery features, Leslie barely contained her anger. "You're lucky for my beliefs in pacifism because I swear if I were a less controlled woman I would throttle you. You have no right Bruce…"

Her words died on her lips as an agitated looking Robin suddenly came in through the still open window. He winced seeing his mentor unmasked and half undressed with bandages covering most of his torso. When he looked at Leslie's face he fought the urge to shiver. What ever had happened, Tim thought, he most definitely did not want to know.

"I found your belt," he managed.

Handing the wayward belt to Bruce Tim backed out through the window again and descended to the sidewalk in silence. A few minutes later he was joined by a tight jawed Batman.

"Who did it and why didn't they take the belt?" Tim asked.

"Talia's back," he answered. "And she just wanted to send a message."

Nodding, Robin followed Batman into the black abyss of the Gotham night.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The cave was silent except for the sounds of bats squeaking and flapping their wings. His cowl was off and he was alone, staring straight ahead at his massive computer screen. Glad for the lack of interruptions and prying eyes, he had set about to finally find Talia. She had sent a message to him and he fully intended to answer it.

In attempting to heal himself he had not only introduced another innocent soul to the death and decay of his life, but he had forgotten his primary responsibility of finding the woman who had murdered the Joker. Gritting his teeth in frustration he tried to tell himself he had done the best he could. Smirking slightly, he wondered when doing his best had become doing enough. He had never settled for such a low standard before.

Ubu's trail had been cold and he had finally sent Robin home after hours of futile searching. The henchman had disappeared into the night. Sending the message that Batman was vulnerable was all he had meant to do and when that been accomplished he had vanished, most likely retreating to his mistress.

His fingers stopped their rapid typing as he heard footsteps in his cave. Annoyance caused him to set his jaw even tighter and he briefly wondered if his teeth were going to crack. Putting aside such foolish thoughts, he resumed his typing, refusing to turn around and face the intruder.

"I heard you had a rough night." Standing with his arms crossed over his chest Dick waited for a response he was sure would be entirely too gruff.

Bruce's fingers continued to fly across the keys. "No more so than most others."

A sigh escaped him and carried his words with it. "I see…Leslie called Barbara and clued us in. Of course, Tim told us when he found you but…we got the whole story from Leslie."

"Go home." His tone was meant to convey he would not entertain arguments.

Dick, of course, was set to argue anyway. "I can help. We can find her together. We'll…"

"No," cutting Dick off Bruce spoke with finality. "I'm going to finish this once and for all. I was blindsided tonight. Caught off guard. That can't happen again. I've let myself become weak when I should have been at my strongest."

Letting his arms fall to his side Dick clenched his fists. "Yeah, you got dropped in the pit and you came out better than ever physically. What about the rest of you? You're more than just a fighting machine!"

Bruce's fingers did not for a moment loose their place. "I am done discussing this, Dick. Leave."

Taken aback at the undisguised and unapologetically rude comment, Dick felt himself start to shake with anger. "I think we all know what happens when you let your mind go and your body take over. Ask Tim about it some day."

His fingers paused momentarily at what he considered to be a low blow. Turning his head ever so slightly, he ground out a response. "This won't end unless I end it."

"Is that what you told Connie?" Dick was playing dirty and he knew it. Knowing his father, though, he also knew that Bruce would not respond unless he was truly affronted.

Turning back to computer screen watched as data scrolled in front of his eyes. His fingers were still but hovered above the keyboard. "She is not of concern to you."

"The hell she isn't!" Taking a step forward, Dick felt his voice climb in volume. "She's a good woman and she was good for you! You just used her to get your mind back in shape? Is that it? She was just your mental punching bag?"

Bruce's answer was little more than a whisper. "Why do you care?"

"Do you love her?"

The question hung in the air like the blade of a guillotine ready to crash down upon someone's neck. Bruce was motionless, simply reading information from his computer screen. Dick was waiting for a response he wasn't sure he would ever get.

When he didn't receive an answer, Dick decided to hit below the belt once again. "Are you even capable of that? Have you ever really loved anyone?"

An unbidden image of Selina flashed in his mind. Images of his parents, Alfred and Dick when he was a child floated into his brain before he fiercely forbid them access to his consciousness. "It's time for you leave, Dick."

Shaking his head though he knew full well Bruce couldn't see him, Dick responded. "Not until you answer me. Don't throw this away, Bruce. You've ruined good things before. Look me in the eye and tell me you're going to do it again."

"No…" he paused a moment before minimizing a window and bringing up a different one. "No, I don't love her."

Dick felt his chest constrict as he realized the truthfulness of those words. Wanting to weep for everything the man who had raised him had sacrificed and refused and tarnished for the good of the mission, Dick turned to go.

"You're going to be alone, you know. For ever." With that, Dick climbed the stairs to the manor.

Taking a deep breath Bruce tried to refuse the hurt that accompanied those words and swallowed hard. Looking to the screen, he stood and pulled his cowl on in one fluid motion. Forgetting his ribs and his head and Dick's words he started towards the hanger housing the planes and jets. It was time to finish his battle with Talia once and for all.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy this. This chapter may be controversial and I think some may not like it but bare with me. It is always darkest before the dawn! (No flames please, but all constructive criticism is appreciated!)

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Chapter 15

The desert wind was biting as sand scraped his chin. The thermo regulators in his suit kept him from overheating but he felt a single droplet of sweat roll down his face none the less. Tracking Talia had been easier than he had thought. She had left a trail through Canada and into Europe. She had convalesced in Spain before finally traveling to her safe haven in Egypt.

The computer had traced her as far as Spain; she hadn't exactly been careful in concealing her whereabouts. Grinding his teeth at the thought of her, he knew she had meant for him to find her. It had been simple to track her from Spain. Talia had left him a letter that had made him want to tear his hair out.

Undertones of superiority and pretentiousness had been laced throughout the short letter detailing her location and a request for his presence. Standing outside the complex that appeared to be as much a part of the desert as the sand itself, as if the outcropping of buildings had grown up from the ground as an organic mass, he considered his options.

Storming inside and beating the guards until his frustration was lessened struck him as a satisfying idea. Even with that plan in place in his mind he still wondered at what to do with Talia. Something inside him revolted at the idea of a physical confrontation with her but he doubted they would be able to understand each other using only words. They had always been better at physical communication.

A small explosive blew the door away and Batman found himself standing alone in a darkened hallway. With muscles keyed for action and anticipation forcing adrenaline into his veins he gritted his teeth and balled his fists at his sides. Starting down the darkened hallway he continued into the heart of the complex.

Passing rooms filled with computer systems and closed circuit surveillance of the complex he frowned at the total lack of population. His body craved action, and fighting the urge, regaining control, was proving harder than he would like to admit to himself. Finally reaching the center of the complex, he stopped short at the site of an opened door spilling light into the hall.

Through the door was a room so opulent even Bruce Wayne at his most indulgent would be uncomfortable. The ceiling was gilded in gold leaf; the walls were draped with the richest tapestries of gold, blue and red. A bed which rivaled the size of his own at Wayne Manor sat in the center of the room, shrouded within a white and silver laced gauzy drapery.

Draped across the center of the bed, partially hidden by the curtains and shadows of the massive four poster bed, was Talia. She reclined on one forearm, only clothed in a silky green spaghetti strap silk negligee. He heard her sigh and shift her position as he reached the edge of the bed.

Pulling back the curtains concealing her form a gasp tore itself from his lips. A thin jagged scar trailed from her hair line to the outer corner of her left eye, effectively cutting her eyebrow in half. Burn scars covered her right arm and shoulder.

"I've been waiting for you, Beloved." Tilting her head to the side, her lips curled upwards as her hair fell in front of her face, covering her scar.

Gritting his teeth he reached for her and in fury grabbed both her shoulders and tore her from the bed. An angry scream escaped through his clenched teeth as he tore the bedclothes from the bed and flung them across the room. Tearing the draperies to the floor he punched one of the posts of the bed, causing it to crack and crash to the floor.

Staring up at him in a crumpled heap her lips parted as her face fell. "I tried to give you a gift," she whispered.

Kneeling in front of her he crushed her shoulders in his grip and pulled her to him so she was inches from his face. Her cry of pain went unnoticed by his ears. "You damned me! You damned me, you witch!"

Crying out in pain at his tightening grip, she reached and grasped his wrists, trying to pry his hands from her tortured skin. "Let go of me! Damn you, Bruce, let go of me!"

Tearing himself from her he forced his feet to move, putting distance between them. "This is it, Talia. From this moment on, we are finished. I swear, Talia…"

"You'll do what? You'll kill me, Bruce?" Getting to her feet she stalked to him until her nose nearly touched his. "You don't kill," she whispered, "you'll never be rid of me. Until my dying day, you will not be rid of me."

Cursing the evil smile curling her lips, his hand shot out before he had time to fully register what he was doing. Her head snapped back at the force of his blow as she collapsed to the floor again. Straddling her waist he grabbed both her wrists and pinned them above her head.

"I'll never be free! Of you! Of this! Damn you, Talia, what did you think you were doing!" Lifting her wrists and slamming them to the floor once again he looked into her pain stricken face and felt his resolve start to break. "I loved you once, Talia…"

Sobbing, her chest shook as she lay under him. Words were beyond her as conflict tore through her and her heart broke. Her inner struggle played across her features and she fought not to look into his face.

"Get off me," she finally struggled to say, "Get away from me!"

Rolling away from her he sat against the end of the bed, looking at her destroyed form. "What happened to you?"

Pulling herself to a sitting position, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and stared at the floor. "My eye is courtesy of your littlest bird and the butt of a gun. After they took you away…I woke up and the complex was burning. I barely escaped with my life."

"You trapped me," he ground out.

Meeting his eyes her voice escaped her with force. "I wanted you by my side for all time. We would have been happy. You would have been happy."

"Happy…" he whispered. "No…I don't think so. You have no idea what you've done, do you, Talia?"

Balling her fists in anger her face contorted in ugly rage. "I made you an offer no man would have refused! I would have born your children! I would have given you anything you desired! Why can't you understand, Bruce?"

His face remained solemn as he regarded her. "I never wanted what you were offering…not the way you offered it. I would have loved you Talia…if you weren't such an evil bitch."

Lunging herself at him he caught her wrists and rolled to the side. Grappling with her on the ground he grunted in pain when her knee connected sharply with his side. He pinned her leg as she grabbed the underside of his cowl and ripped upwards, scraping her nails up his face.

Twisting on the floor with her he fought her tentacle like arms away from his now unmasked face. She screamed as he set both of his knees on top of her shins, painfully pinning them to the ground. Even though she had no hope of escaping his grip she struggled against him. Pressing her face close to his she bit his chin, drawing blood.

Screaming in surprise and pain, he lurched away from her, releasing his grip on one of her wrists. With the opportunity she stabbed downwards into his neck, forcing her fingernails under his armor.

They struggled against each other, indomitable will against superior strength. With a violent scream she tore at his armor until he was again fighting with what seemed to him to be eight limbs. Striking at him almost blindly she grabbed at his suit, trying with all her might to tear it from him so she would be able to better tear at his skin.

With one roar he caught her and flipped her beneath him so her back was to his chest and her chest crushed against the floor. Breathing heavily she bucked against him, a low growl tearing itself from her throat. Hearing the breathy quality of her voice, he pressed himself more fully into her, causing her to whimper in what he knew was not pain.

Both breathing heavily they lay still for a moment until the escalating tension in the room grew to such a height that neither of them could resist. In a flurry of silk and leather and bullet resistant armor they came face to face and were tearing clothes from each other. With a gasp she threw herself upon him.

Still on his knees he crushed her to his chest, feeling her pain emanating through him. Sorrow for her and the plight her name caused her coursed through him and he knew he would not be able to harbor hatred for her. When she shook in pleasure against him even as tears rolled freely down her face he held her.

Whispering apologies into his ear she wrapped her arms around his neck. Squeezing his eyes tight against an onslaught of unnamable emotions he held her in silence.

"I thought…I thought we would…" Sobs stopped her from finishing her thought as her body was wracked with unquenchable pain.

"Shh…"Stroking her back, he whispered into her hair. "It's alright now. I understand."

The words surprised even him and he swallowed the lump rising in his throat. Thirty years of history clouded his judgment and he knew it. Lifting her into his arms he carried her to the bed and deposited her lightly onto the satin sheet, the only covering left on the bed.

Righting the bottom half of his uniform and belt he looked to the broken and scarred woman lying in a heap on the bed. Collecting the remaining pieces of his suit from the floor he drew in a deep breath and looked to her with pity.

"If you, or anyone of your association, come to Gotham, I will find you and I will do everything in my power to end you. I never want to see you, or anyone belonging to your family or employ ever again. Understand me, Talia…this is the end. This is the end of all we have ever been to each other. All we ever could be…it ends today."

Pulling his armor and cape on, he held his cowl tightly in his hand. "Goodbye, Talia."

With only quiet sobs to send him off, he turned and pulled his cowl on. Stalking through the winding hallways and out into the whipping sands, he looked up at the full moon and swallowed hard. Feeling a demon within him curl up and pull away from his consciousness and out of his body he sighed with a feeling that somewhat resembled relief.

Climbing into the plane he gripped the wheel tightly and wondered if he would ever forgive himself for letting a murderous go free. He would add that treachery to the list of others he had committed against himself and others. Swallowing hard once again he recognized that some demons had abandoned him while he had created a few new others for himself.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Cold water stung his skin as unforgiving wind whipped his cape against his body. The bright red colors of the Robin costume were concealed carefully beneath the black cape, making him all but invisible in the night. A presence was approaching him from behind and he stilled, waiting for his silent stalker to speak.

"I let you hear me." Taking a knee on the ledge next to Robin Batgirl rested her arm on her bent knee.

"Of course you did," Tim smirked.

"No action tonight. The storm chased them all inside."

Frowning, he sat back and let the rain pelt him. "I'd rather be out here than anywhere else."

Nodding, she lightly patted his shoulder before settling into a more comfortable position on the ledge.

A small grin tugged at his lips. Cass had always understood, more so than anyone else. Tim had always thought that of everyone in his family he and Cass would be in the cape and cowl the longest. It had always seemed that he and Cass lived and breathe for the night. Few others seemed to understand that. Even Bruce, at times, seemed to only suffer being Batman. Tim and Cassandra lived for it.

The minute long silence was finally broken by Batgirl. "When did he leave?"

Tim knew just who she referred to. "A few hours ago. Nightwing gave me the run down of the conversation they had just before B left."

The frown on her face was evident even through her mask. "It was bad."

"Yeah," was all he could think to say.

Sighing, she put her chin on her fist and looked out into the Gotham night. The buildings appeared almost clean in the rain. The water washed away the sins of the city as people cleared from the streets and found shelter from the storm. The only noise she could hear was the splatter of rain droplets on concrete and steel.

Every breathe she took was icy cold and her lips were starting to chap. The warm spring weather had abruptly changed to one of the coldest Cass could remember. She reflected that weather in Gotham was always fickle. Even when supervillains weren't changing the Earth's natural balance, Gotham weather seemed to balance precariously on a teeter-totter, ready to change direction at the slightest provocation.

Licking her chapped lips before immediately regretting doing so, Cass cringed. Sighing, she wondered for a moment why she so enjoyed the torture that was being Batgirl. After a moment of contemplation, she spoke. "You thing he'll come back?"

Dragging his hand through his soaked hair, he tried to get the wet plastered locks away from his forehead. They were starting to make him itch. "In one piece, you mean? I don't know. I think he'll be back soon, right after he says what he has to say to Talia. If he comes back crazy or not is another question all together."

"I think he has demons to slay."

Cocking an eyebrow, he smirked lightly. "Have you been playing World of Warcraft again?" At her disapproving frown he continued. "I get what you mean, though. You had to slay some demons with the league of assassins; he has some demons to slay with Talia."

"Too much history," she replied.

"You can say that again. Those two have either been at each others' throats or in each others' pants for as long as I've been alive. Longer, now that I think about it. You can't go back and forth like that for as long as they have and not have some baggage."

Her response was so spoken so softly he wasn't sure he had actually heard her. "Baggage gets heavy," she said.

Releasing a sigh, he pushed his wet hair away again and nodded. "Yeah, I hear that."

They sat in comfortable silence, each feeling and knowing the others' pain and relating to it on a level so deep neither wanted to contemplate it. With a sudden breath and a movement fluid like the water careening down her mask Batgirl stood and leapt from the building. As she free fell a feeling started in her stomach and spread like fire to her limbs.

She remembered why she loved being Batgirl as she fell through the inky black night. She could hear Robin not far behind her as she shot a grapple to the nearest building and began a graceful arc through the night. Her body curved like a ballerina's as she flew as easily as a bird. The city's beauty surrounded her and she felt, for not the first time, that she had found her purpose in life.

It had taken a year of soul searching and rebellion but she had realized just where she needed to be. After much internal struggle she now recognized her family and her place in the scheme of the universe. Robin was by her side, as he should be, she thought, and they were soaring through a city that had been bettered by their very existence.

Looking down at the rain blackened sidewalks and alley ways and the hazy yellow glow of street lamps she fought back a smile. It was difficult not to feel pride that she had contributed, in some small way, to the rebuilding of a city that was once thought to be lost and free of all hope.

Landing atop a rooftop she grasped a rung of a fire escape and allowed herself to feel free and weightless as she leaned over the side of the building. A shrill sense of adventure filled her veins as loud voices reached her ears. Leaping downwards again she started towards the source of the noise.

Landing silently in the street she wasted no time in disarming the three youths wearing baggy clothing and chains. Robin started in on the four teenagers with entirely too many facial piercings and shirts with sleeves cut off. Part of her wanted to shake her head at the inappropriate dress of both groups; it was to cold and wet for aspiring gangsters to want to show off their colors by foregoing jackets.

When both groups had been neatly tied and the police had been alerted to their locations the vigilantes swung into the night again. It was nearly four in the morning when both decided to call it a night. Without words they began their trek back across the city to the underground parking lot their car was secreted in.

Wrapping a towel around her neck and another around her waist she leaned her head against the window. Robin turned the heat on and tried to fight back the urge to sniffle. Taking a long swallow from the thermos of hot soup Alfred had hidden under the driver's seat Tim waited for the interior of the car to warm before handing the thermos to Cass and pulling out of the parking garage.

They were nearly half way to the cave before Time felt the need to speak. "That was boring."

"Kind of," she said.

Shaking his head, he frowned at her. "Kind of? I had one robbery and two domestics before I met up with you. Then we had one wanna-be gang, another domestic and a tripped fire alarm because of some drunken idiot. I call that boring."

"No night is totally boring. Uneventful maybe," she conceded, "but not boring."

Shrugging his shoulders slightly he tried to keep from sneezing and vigorously rubbed his nose. "I guess. A little more action would have been nice. A signal in the sky, you know?"

"Signals mean big cases. I don't like big cases when it rains. Big cases mean stake outs. Moving is better when it rains."

Her mask was pulled back and he could see the total simplicity of her words conveyed through her face. Smiling, he nodded. "You're right, Cass. Of course you're right."

With a yawn she wrapped her arms around her torso and leaned more into the door. "Let's go home and wait up for him."

"I'm going to sleep," he said with a shake of his head, "you can wait up if you want. You know he won't talk to you if he doesn't want to, though. And he won't want to, by the way."

"Thanks detective," she mocked. "I would never have known that."

Shaking his head he kept quiet for the rest of the trip. Cassandra's loyalty to Bruce was second to none, Tim thought. Trying not to think of the battle Bruce was waging alone at that moment, he focused on the road. In good time, Tim thought, he would know where Bruce had gone and if he had come back the same man he left. Part of him hoped for some change. Part of him longed for things to stay the same.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Bruce had never been particularly good at being indecisive. If a decision had to be made, even in haste and dire circumstances, he generally felt comfortable doing so. Even if he later looked back and regretted whatever he had decided, he could normally conclude that he could have done nothing other than what he had given the situation.

At the moment, though, he felt the sting of indecision slice through him on an almost per minute basis. He had returned from Egypt nearly four hours previous and had since dressed in simple black pants and long sleeve polo and had situated himself in the library. He hadn't moved since.

Alfred had been in to offer refreshments. Then he had come in to offer encouragement. Bruce had found himself unable to respond to his oldest and dearest friend on either occasion. The passage of time meant nothing to him, which a part of his consciousness found disturbing. He had trained himself to hyper-vigilant and aware of time's passing. His internal clock was finely tuned. On this morning, however, he could scarcely keep track of the hour.

His mind was clouded with memories of family, women and death. Those he had loved and who had left, through their own volition or through death, haunted him. Closing his eyes against the onslaught of images he wondered when such an accumulation of bodies on his doorstep on occurred. He wondered when the faces had started to blur together during his waking hours until he felt as though everything he touched turned to ash.

Parting ways in such a definite manner with Talia had hurt deeper than he had imagined it would. Dick's words rang through his ears still, stabbing him directly in his heart. He had sworn vengeance for his parents. He had sworn to protect the city and her inhabitants with his life if necessary. Those oaths had progressed to promising to be alone throughout his life.

He had tried to break the promise of loneliness on a few occasions. It had ended in disaster every time. Images of Andrea, Silver, Vesper, Vicki, Talia, Selina and Connie passed through his consciousness and swirled in his mind until he thought he would scream. The feeling of holding Jason's dead body in his arms, of holding Vesper just as police stormed in to arrest him, clouded his already stormy thoughts.

His head ached. The bite mark on his chin had stopped bleeding but still stung. His ribs screamed in pain and it was difficult to breathe at times. Ubu, and then Talia, had taken their anger out on his body and he was now acutely aware of it. Swallowing hard he shifted slightly, trying to find a more agreeable position.

The door to the library opened with a slight creak. Bruce didn't look up at the intrusion. Sitting next to Bruce but keeping a foot or so of space between them Dick sighed. Tim had called, sounding worried. Dick had been able to ignore that call. The second call, however, from Alfred, had forced Dick into action.

"So when I can I tell the others this pity party will be over?"

Anger flared within him but Bruce clenched his fists and fought back the urge to start a physical fight with his son. "Get out of here, Dick. Go home."

With widening eyes, Dick clenched his own fists. "There was a time when you would have told me this house would always be my home."

Tired eyes met fiery ones as Bruce looked up. "Don't try to fight with me. I've had enough brawls in the past twenty-four hours to last me a few days."

Calming slightly, Dick sighed and slouched into the couch. Hoping brutal honesty would be a good tactic, Dick spoke. "Geese, dad, you're giving us all a stroke, you know that? I…I don't know what to do here."

Dragging a hand down his face Bruce fought back a sigh. "Yeah, me neither."

Shock registered across Dick's features. "What? What do you mean you don't know what to do? About what?"

"Dick, I don't want to do this." Shaking his head, Bruce wished he was alone with thoughts.

Planting himself in his seat, as if he could sense Bruce's thoughts about his leaving, Dick continued. "I don't hear that kind of thing for you…well, ever. So, when I hear it, I have to follow up on it, right? What are you talking about?"

"It's complicated," he said with a sigh.

Dick sat in contemplation for a moment before responding. "Aren't you afraid, dad? Aren't you afraid of being alone? I know you have me and Babs and the kids. Tim and Cass practically worship you…but you're still alone. Doesn't that scare you? Even a little?"

"I've done this for a long time…"

Dick didn't allow him to finish his sentence. "That's the damn problem! That is exactly the problem! You've pushed people away all your life! You've always gone it alone. Isn't it time to try a new approach?"

Leaning forward, a fire lit in Bruce's eyes. The glacier blue orbs suddenly tuned a darker shade of blue and Dick prepared for a fight. "Why are you set on this, Dick? You keep pushing this thing with Connie. You don't understand everything that's going on."

Dick's blue eyes matched Bruce's. "Then explain it to me! Make me understand!"

Leaning back once again Bruce considered his son thoughtfully. After a moment of silence, he started. "I never told you about some of my training. Some of my earlier experiences. You only know what I told you, what somehow passed for bedtime stories. Dick…" Settling back in his seat a far away look came to Bruce's face before he started speaking again. "When I was seventeen, Alfred and I traveled to the Ukraine.

It was a short trip, for many reasons. We were traveling to Europe from Africa and I insisted on a detour. There were rumors about a man, a child killer. He liked to pick up young boys, rape and strangle them to death and dump them in alleys. Alfred had an inkling of what I was planning to do, but I don't think he ever fully understood what really happened.

He liked boys younger than I was at the time. I had studied stage makeup, under Alfred's tutelage. I worked for days to perfect my look. For five nights I stood behind pubs, appearing a few years younger, just waiting. I had a look I knew he'd appreciate."

Swallowing, Bruce continued. "On the sixth night he found me. I knew…I knew the moment I saw him who he was. He propositioned me, lead me to his apartment. I had been training, but I still didn't understand the evil I was going to be fighting. I knew the concept but I wasn't intimately familiar with its deeds and doers.

Before I knew what had happened, he had hit me over the head and was dragging me into a small room, no bigger than a closet, really." A harsh laugh escaped him and he paused a moment before continuing. "I was groggy but I could make out a few things. A board, a two-by-four, with ropes at either end, a gag…they were just laying there waiting for his next victim.

I kicked him so hard he lost a tooth. I cracked his skull open with the board. We grappled for what seemed like hours. I left with a bleeding lip, torn shirt and black eye. I left him unconscious and bound up with his own sick toys. When I got behind the building I threw up until I couldn't stand.

When I crawled back in through the window of our apartment, Alfred was waiting for me. Neither of us said anything." Making poignant eye contact with Dick, Bruce waited a moment before he finished. "That was the last time I allowed myself to truly feel fear. Gut wrenching, shaking fear. It wasn't until I met Scarecrow I revisited those feelings. Don't ask me if it scares me to be alone, Dick. That is a ridiculous question."

Dick sat in silence, breathing rather jaggedly; staring at the man he called his father. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nodded. "I…I understand." Everything Bruce ad meant to convey in his story had slammed into Dick with perfect clarity.

"I thought you would," Bruce said.

"I just worry…I don't want you…I don't know what I'm trying to say." Shaking his head, Dick leaned back and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Getting to his feet, Bruce held his bruised ribs. "You have enough to worry about, Dick. You have a wife and children and a city to protect. Let me deal with my problems."

Nodding, Dick watched as Bruce made his way towards the door. "What happened with Talia?" He finally managed.

Pausing a moment to consider the proper response to that question, Bruce turned a fraction towards his son. "We talked."

With that, he turned and left the library. Feeling suddenly very emotionally drained, Dick allowed his shoulders and his face to drop. For a reason he couldn't immediately identify he felt the urge to cry. Swallowing hard he stood and rubbed his face with both hands. He needed to hug his children and kiss his wife and thank the powers above for his life. Once in Blüdhaven, he did just that.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

It had been late in the night when Bruce had managed to fall asleep. Most of his day had been spent staring through the glass doors that led to the balcony off his bedroom. When his mind had finally quieted a modicum and his exhaustion had taken over he had fallen into a fitful sleep. A cold sweat and the sounds of his own low cries had woken him, as they had many nights of his life.

Pulling the sheets from him and dragging his hands through his hair he swallowed hard. The nightmares were always incredibly vivid until he awoke; then they faded faster than he could catch them, leaving only vague impressions of what had startled him from sleep. Forcing himself into the shower he let the hot water sooth his aching muscles.

His cracked ribs sent aching, shooting pain through his side and back. His face and neck stung where Talia's nails and teeth had broken the skin. Sighing he turned off the water and went about toweling off and wrapping his torso in ace bandages. Once he was satisfied with the state of his wrappings he dressed in loose fitting pants and pulled on a robe.

Padding downstairs he wandered through the great room and into the kitchen. Nothing in the refrigerator struck him as particularly appealing though everything was made by Alfred and of the highest quality. There was nothing in the library he wanted to read and the thought of working in the cave was unattractive. This, he reflected, was a new feeling. He had always moved and lived with purpose. Wandering barefoot through the halls of his home was totally out of character for him.

About to head upstairs to brood he heard the faintest knock at the front door. Alarm immediately filled him; most people would use the doorbell and it was exceedingly strange for someone to be at the door at this time of night. Tying his robe closed a little tighter he went to the door and looked through the peep hole. He immediately regretted not being in bed.

Part of him wondered if he shouldn't just move away silently and go to bed. That, he argued to himself, would be the best course of action. His hand seemed to disagree with his brain though and he found himself moving to open the door.

They stood staring at each other in silence for a moment. The rain had stopped leaving a heavy feeling to the air which was mirrored on her face. He stood aside silently to allow her entry.

Refusing to be the first to speak he waited for her to find words that could explain her presence at his home. Almost too tired to feel anger at her obvious disregard of his dismissal of her he crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the pain that action caused.

"I…" She took a deep breath before continuing. "I talked to Leslie. And I did some work in the library."

Letting that hang in the air for a moment she waited for him to respond to her insinuated meaning. He refused to rise to the bait and she swallowed hard, preparing to speak again.

"I couldn't leave it like that, Bruce." With those words she stood staring at him in silence waiting for him to either kick her out or accept her.

Taking as deep a breath as he could with his broken ribs he looked away from her. It would be so easy to ask her to leave and never return. He knew she would never reveal his secret to anyone. In a strange way he knew he could trust her whether he let her into his life or not. Letting her in would kill her, though, in a way that was worse than physical death. Allowing her into his life would kill her innocence, her belief in normalcy. He wasn't sure he could watch that happen to her.

"I can't have you here, Connie." His voice was hard but tinged with sadness he couldn't quite keep buried.

Her breath caught in her chest as she turned away from him and pressed her hand to her mouth. "It isn't fair, Bruce…" she whispered.

Balling his fists at his side he closed his eyes. "It isn't fair. Not at all. But this is the way it has to be. I should never have gotten involved with you in the first place."

Spinning quickly she stared at him with anger on her tear streaked face. "Don't tell me you regret it, Bruce. I know you don't. Those weeks in Italy were the best of both our lives and you can't deny that, not to me! You may be too scared to do anything about the way you feel, but don't deny you feel it!"

Closing the gap between them his fists balled so tightly his nails cut into his palms. "You were the one who said we shouldn't be in a relationship! You wanted a fling!"

"Well I got a hell of a lot more than that didn't I? It's too late to go back there! We can't take it back! I know you now…I know all about you…"

A look he had never seen came into her eyes. She had seen him at his very worst, she had seen him as Bruce Wayne and as Batman. She was aware of his temper and his ability to laugh at himself and now he had the sinking suspicion she knew why he had lived his life the way he had.

"You need to get out of here, Connie. You have to go. I can't have you in my life."

Shaking her head, she stood her ground. "I wanted to have great sex one last time before I died. I wanted to have fun. I wanted a no strings attached good time. What I got was the most complicated man I have ever met. There is no turning back time, Bruce, and I refuse to give up what could be the most amazing thing to ever happen to me."

A part of his mind he hadn't wanted to give voice to told him he would be safe with her. There was no long term commitment with her because she was going to die anyway. He hated himself for thinking like that but he also had to admit it was true. If she was any other woman he would have been running for his life. There was a sense of security in the fact that there would be no great commitment with her. That, he told himself, was not a good enough reason to bring her into his life. That was a selfish and coldhearted reason to be with her.

"We had something, Connie. I won't deny that. But you deserve more than to be shackled to me. You've seen what I do with my nights."

Nodding, she decided to take a bold step in their conversation. "I know about your parents. I know why you do what you do and I am not afraid of it. I was, Bruce, but I'm not anymore. I've seen who you are and I want to see more."

The air in his lungs had been sucked out and he wanted to crawl under a rock and die. Though she had seen him confused and hurt and vulnerable, he had never felt so exposed. Feeling as though was standing naked in Times Square, he took a step back from her.

"That's enough," he whispered. "I've heard enough. I think it's time for you go."

A sob tore through her body and she looked ready to collapse. He fought to keep from going to her. Shaking her head, she put her hand against the wall for support. "If you want me to leave you are going to have to make me," she finally ground out.

Sighing he kept his arms still. He wanted nothing more than to put his fist through the nearest wall and scream for her to leave him alone. "This can't be anything more than it has been, Connie. We can't go back and there is nothing ahead of us. What are you expecting from me?"

Loosing her temper, she raised her voice to levels not appropriate for indoors at four in the morning. "I expect you to be honest! For once in this god damned mockery of a relationship, be honest!"

"You want honesty!" Closing the space between them faster than most people could move, he grabbed both her shoulders. "I go out every night and sometimes I wonder if I am going to come back! I have been tortured and close to madness for weeks and I don't know what I can give you! You will wait up every night never knowing if that's the night I die in some filthy back alley! You'll always wonder if I'm with you because I felt too guilty to leave you after you told me you're sick or if it's because you were just to tenacious for me to ignore! You will be miserable and angry and eventually I will break your heart and I couldn't stand that!"

Breathless from speaking so many words and wincing from the pain in his side he pulled away from her. "For your sake, Connie, get out of here and forget about me. I will bring nothing but pain to your life."

Her heart broke for him and she immediately put her arms around his neck and crushed her lips to his. Careful to avoid his chest she closed her eyes and drank in the sensation of his lips on hers, like a woman starved for water who had finally found an oasis.

A low moan escaped him and he felt the damn he had spent so many years constructing start to crack. She was honest and brutally unafraid and ready to take a chance on him. Not once had she said she disapproved of his life or that she wanted him to change. Never had she made any demand of him except that he be honest with her. He wondered if he really was incapable of fulfilling such a simple request.

Ignoring the pain in his chest he pushed her up against the wall and ravaged her mouth with abandon. Pouring his need and loneliness into that one kiss he held her close. He had no fear of being alone but he felt no pleasure at the prospect either. It wasn't fear that was driving him to need her; it was desire to feel something other than cold numbness.

They made their way to his bedroom, all the while barely breaking the seal of their lips. Their hands roamed each other and Connie loved him with a passion she had previously kept reserved. Fighting and winning for supremacy once alone in the bedroom Connie showed him just how deeply she could affect him. With an intense level of intrigue and need they made gentle love to each other.

Lying with her in his arms they watched the sun come up as the rays of light peaked through the draperies of Bruce's bedroom. Loosing himself in the feel of her he wondered if he could stand to feel so accepted on a daily basis. It could take some getting used to, he thought, but he might just get used to it.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Sitting on the window bench with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them Connie sighed. Bruce was resting peacefully, it seemed; she had been able to crawl out of bed in silence. Resting her head against the cool glass of the window she breathed deeply and tried to center her thoughts.

It wasn't fair to him, she thought. It wasn't fair she had pushed so hard and refused to accept his rejection of her. She had situated herself into his life and a part of her sincerely regretted it. As the internal war waged within her she bit her bottom lip and tried to keep the moisture from her eyes. It wasn't fair to him that she has shoved her way into his life and would have no choice but to leave it again.

No one could tell her how long she had to live. She had seen the best oncologists. She had undergone surgery the year previous to de-bulk the tumor that was slowly killing her. For all she knew she could have months or years. Either way, she told herself, she was going to leave Bruce alone again after he had tried so hard to remove her from his life already.

Mentally kicking herself, she turned at the sound of rustling sheets. They had been careful the previous night to avoid injuring his ribs further than they already were but she knew he would still be sore from their exertions. Swallowing her doubts she turned her body ever so slightly towards him and tried to put a smile on her face.

Opening his eyes, the first thing he was immediately aware of was the lack of presence beside him. The second was the pain in his side and chest. Ignoring the latter observation, he propped himself on one elbow and looked at the woman sitting in front of the window.

The yellow sunlight streaming in illuminated her golden hair like a halo. She was wearing one of his button-down shirts so the side of hip and the expanse of her thighs were totally open to his view in the position she was sitting it. Her lips were kiss swollen and pink.

The only parts of her countenance not completely celestial were her eyes. He could see a thinly veiled pain in them and he briefly wondered if she was waging the same internal war he was. Pulling himself from the bed he grabbed he nearest pair of track pants, slipping them on before going to her.

Neither said a word as he stood to the side and slightly behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Inhaling deeply he gazed through the windows at the expanse of green grass and dampened forest. Beyond that, below the hills Wayne Manor was situated on, he could see the outline of Gotham City. Closing his eyes he felt his grip on her shoulders tighten slightly. It was almost as if he had been caught with his mistress by his wife.

Releasing her from his grip he took a step back and waited for her to turn around. When she did the pain in her eyes was even less concealed.

"I guess we have to figure out where we go from her, huh Bruce?" Her voice was a breathy whisper and he found himself longing to here more of it.

Shaking himself from such ridiculously romantic thoughts he sighed and raked one hand through his hair. "Where would you like to go," he asked evenly.

A short laugh escaped her just before she gathered her composure again. Uncurling herself and standing up she leaned back against the wall and studied him. One of her feet came up to rest on the wall as well, leaving her in a provocative pose though he doubted she knew that.

"I suppose there is nowhere but forward," she finally managed.

Stepping closer to her he leaned his hands on either side of her head. "Say the word, Connie, and this ends," he whispered.

A tiny smile played at her lips. "You're letting me control that, Bruce? I thought you would want your finger on the self destruct button."

He couldn't help but grin. "Normally I would…but I have a feeling we would just end up fighting for control anyway. I'm preemptively giving it to."

"A calculated risk, then? That, coming from you, I can understand, at least."

He nearly marveled at how quickly and how well this woman had pegged him. She seemed to have immediately deduced his personality and every word played directly into it. For not the first time he wondered if she was some kind of evil spy sent to destroy him. Frowning at his train of thought he reflected it wasn't paranoia if everyone really was out to get him.

Realizing he had let the silence draw out to long, he dragged words from his chest. "I calculate every risk."

"I believe that." Resting her hands on his shoulders her smile started to transform to one that was more playful. "I'm a risk you're willing to take?"

Leaning down so that his face was mere inches from hers, he nodded ever so slightly. "I think you're a risk I couldn't afford not to take." With that he closed the gap between them and crushed his lips to hers. Smiling through the kiss, he pulled back after a few moments. "This isn't going to be easy."

Nodding, she interlaced her fingers behind his neck. "I know. Nothing is ever easy though, and I think you'll be worth the trouble."

"Thanks, I think…"

With that a small laugh escaped her lips. They simply stood for a few minutes, taking each other in. Finally, Connie cleared her throat. "I'm hungry."

With that he smiled a genuine smile and pulled away from to find a shirt. Gingerly pulling a long sleeve t-shirt over his head he watched from the corner of his eye as she pulled on a pair of his boxers beneath his shirt. She obviously had no intention of changing into her own clothes, he decided.

"Do you always make yourself so at home," he asked.

Grinning at him, she nodded. "You know I look better in your shirt anyway."

"That you do," he said a little devilishly as he led her out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

It was nearing nine in the morning, which Bruce thought meant the house would be close to empty. Tim, if he had stayed at the Manor last night, would have left for work. Alfred had some errands to do in the city and normally Cassie accompanied him. This morning, of course, was different.

He cursed inside his head when he saw the three of them sitting at the kitchen island, the remnants of breakfast before them. Cassie looked torn between amusement and predatory rage but ready to lean towards the latter at a moment's notice. Tim was carefully blank as he sipped steaming coffee. Alfred was grinning slightly which Bruce took to mean he was ready to dance on tabletops. Cursing to himself again, he mumbled a good morning to them.

Connie suddenly had a death grip on his hand. Turning to look at her he was immediately filled with concern. She looked like she had seen a ghost. Before he could speak she had swallowed hard and nodded, almost to herself.

Going to the coffee pot she poured two mugs and handed one to Bruce, who was still watching her as if she was about to bolt for the door at any moment. No one said anything as she fixed her coffee with milk and sugar. Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seat.

Looking towards Tim she managed a sardonic smile. "How's the shoulder?" When no spoke she sipped her coffee again before speaking. "It was a while ago, you might not even remember you hurt it."

Something flashed in Tim's eyes but he immediately schooled his features and looked towards Bruce. When he spoke his voice was forced and gravelly. "You two must be getting awfully close."

The pieces fell into place at that moment and Bruce sighed. He had nearly forgotten the night Robin had been patched up by Connie. Shaking his head, he wondered how many arguments his next statement was going to cause. "Connie knows what I do with my nights."

Cassie looked ready to roar and pounce on the blonde woman. Tim was gripping his mug so tightly it was in danger of cracking. Bruce thought he imagined Alfred looked rather relieved.

A hiss finally escaped Tim's lips. "You had no right!"

"He didn't tell me," Connie ventured.

Tim turned his full wrath on Connie. "And you have no place to speak here!"

At that Bruce took a menacing step forward. "That is enough. Connie saw me unmasked at Leslie's. It happened, it's over. Drop it, both of you." He punctuated his statement with poignant looks to both Tim and Cass.

With a very unladylike gesture Cassie slammed her mug on the counter and was out the door before Bruce could so much as move. Tim quickly followed. Sighing heavily Alfred allowed his shoulders to droop slightly.

"At least it's out in the open," the aging butler stated.

"Sorry Bruce," Connie managed in a low voice, "I should have done that a bit more tactfully."

"Probably," he conceded, "but they wouldn't like you anyway. They wouldn't like you no matter who you were or whether or not you knew their identities. They'll get over it eventually."

With a sad smile, she nodded. "I guess maybe you should tell me all the connections." With a questioning glance from Bruce she continued. "Well, I know Dick is involved in this crusade somehow. And I am dying to know how you got your bodyguard to be Batgirl, which I assume she is."

Sighing heavily, Bruce dragged his hands through his hair again and leaned his elbows on the counters. "It's a long story, Connie, and I'm not sure I'm up to telling it."

With that Alfred stood up and began clearing dishes from the counter. "I imagine you are expected at the office today, sir. If the young lady has no other obligations I will inform her of the unique bonds of this family."

Smiling, Bruce nodded acquiescence and fought the urge to roll his eyes. This was Alfred's dream come true, Bruce thought; a beautiful, intelligent woman not afraid to stand up to anyone in his family who also knew about their identities. With no small tinge of sadness he wondered how he would break the news to his oldest friend that this arrangement was anything but permanent and never could be. That was a conversation he did not relish having.


	20. Chapter 20

**d()** - Thanks as always for the critique, I love that you catch errors I don't. I have always found it difficult to proofread my own work, especially for typos.

**Louie Pastiche** - Your comments are always welcome! Thank you for sticking by the story from beginning to end, I love reading your reviews!

**A/N:** At this point I have the next few chapters finished; I am just waiting to post them. I hope everyone has been enjoying this, I know I have loved writing it. Also, I am still toying with ideas as to Cassandra has been speaking to on the Blackberry. I am actually going back and forth between two characters. I would like to ask the audience, a la DC and Jason Todd's death, who it should be. All suggestions are welcome! Thanks again for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it!

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Chapter 20

Connie sat with a look of amazement on her face. Alfred, seated across from her, merely smiled comfortingly and patted her knee.

"I know this must be quite a lot to assimilate in such a short time," Alfred ventured gently.

Nodding, she swallowed. Trying to make sense of everything she had just heard was proving to be no small feat. Bruce and his brood had led exceedingly complicated lives. Taking a slow breath she wondered if she could ever fit into a family of superheroes. It didn't seem likely.

"Alfred, how…how has he survived all that? He seems so…well maybe not 'well adjusted' but he isn't catatonic and drooling in a corner either, and by all rights, he should be." Her consternation was evident on her face.

Leaning back in his chair, Alfred released a small sigh. "Yes, Master Bruce has survived quite a bit hardship. I dare say that is why he is who he is; he has seen the worst of tragedy and has been able to survive it. I do not believe there is anything he could not come through."

Nodding, Connie tried to picture the image of Bruce Alfred had portrayed. "He is a great man, Alfred," she said quietly, "though he tries to hide it."

"I must confess, Miss," he started, "I am more than slightly surprised you have managed to insert yourself so entirely into his life."

A small smile crossed her features. "It was mostly by luck, Alfred. If I hadn't forgotten my keys that night…well I doubt he would have ever called me, or maybe he would have, I don't know. But I certainly wouldn't have got to know him the way I did that night."

Deciding to be candid, Alfred nodded. "I am surprised, knowing what you do, that you still want to be part of his life."

Shrugging her shoulders, she leaned closer to the aged butler. "How can I possibly judge him for it, Alfred? He has such a good heart, and he just wants to help people and sure, he's doing it in a slightly unconventional way, but we only live once, right? Most people would have become a cop or social worker, but Bruce took it about a hundred steps further than that. I…I guess I have to respect that."

They sat in silence for a moment before Alfred spoke. "It doesn't frighten you?"

Sipping the now tepid tea that had been sitting at her elbow she considered her answer for a few moments. "Which part of it? I mean, the idea of him fighting psychopaths that want nothing more than to see him dead? That's kind of scary," she said with a bit of a forced laugh, "His obsessive and perfectionist nature scare me more than the thought of him being killed, though. We could die any day; he may just go out in a more unconventional way."

Alfred smiled a sad smile. He loathed the thought of anything happening to Bruce. He almost envied Connie's view of the situation. "I suppose that is true, Miss. His obsessions drive him to the brink of human endurance on a near nightly basis."

Looking into the older man's eyes, she leaned forward and clasped his hand. "You really love him, don't you?"

Unaccustomed to such questions, Alfred felt a faint blush rise in his cheeks. He had met many of Bruce's female companions through the years. He had approved of some and not of others. Some of them he had held high hopes for while with others he had been reduced to counting the minutes until they left the Manor. None of them had struck them quite as this woman did however.

Bruce had a definite type, Alfred had previously reflected on more than one occasion. Bruce fell for women who were shrewd, ruthless in their determination of reaching their goals, intelligent, beautiful and above all cunning. This woman before him was all those things, Alfred thought, but she was tempered with a calm kindness, the origins of which he couldn't begin to process.

Every woman Bruce had ever been seriously attracted to had been driven and conniving. They had all approached the mystery of either Bruce Wayne or the Batman with dogged determination. In some cases Bruce's pursuers had not been working and living on the right side of the law.

Connie had a look in her eye that spoke volumes to Alfred. There was gentleness, a need to comfort that overrode her innate curiosity and shrewdness. Relief swelled through him as he realized that Bruce may have found a woman with all the qualities he needed and desired that wasn't going to either try to kill him or demand he change. He felt his old heart start to grow lighter.

"I have been with this family since before Master Bruce was born," Alfred said by way of answering.

The knowing smile on Connie's face told Alfred she understood the implied meaning of his words.

"Do you think Tim and Cassandra will come around," she asked, attempting to steer the conversation to easier waters.

"They are slow to warm to new people, Miss. I assure you they will eventually befriend you. They would be hard pressed to avoid enjoying your company," he finished with a smile.

Beaming at him, she put her hand to her heart. "That may be the most endearing compliment I have ever heard, Alfred."

Alfred allowed a small chuckle to escape him as he looked towards the clock. "We have been speaking all morning," he said, standing, "and I believe I should prepare lunch."

Standing with him, she nodded. Realizing with a start it was after one o'clock, she followed him into the kitchen. "Lunch would be wonderful."

She sensed Alfred's discomfort in her helping him prepare the meal so she regulated herself to arranging the place settings and making lemonade. They ate in amiable silence, each content to ponder the other and the family they found themselves centered in.

It was towards the end of their lunch when the front door opened and slammed. Alfred didn't look concerned so Connie decided the intruder was someone meant to be there. She had changed into her jeans before she and Alfred had begun to speak that morning but she was still wearing Bruce's white buttoned shirt.

When Cass entered the kitchen Connie couldn't help but roll the sleeves a little higher, as if preparing for a fight. Cass said nothing, but instead made herself a plate and sat opposite to Connie, which was cattycorner to Alfred. The young woman ate quickly and without a word, stood again, deposited her dish in the sink and stalked from the kitchen.

"Alright…that wasn't awkward at all…" Connie said softly.

Shaking his head, Alfred vowed to have a conversation with his youngest charge over her behavior. She was overly protective of Bruce, but Alfred didn't think that needed to equate being rude to guests.

"She will come around, Miss, mark my words."

With that, Connie sighed and shook her head. Cass didn't seem the coming around type, but Connie supposed anything was possible. If gorgeous billionaires could dress up like demons and prowl the streets at night than it had to be within the realm of possibilities for young assassins to like their guardian's girlfriend. Connie almost laughed out loud at herself.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"I don't like her."

Tim almost cringed at the beating the punching bag was taking. If Cass got any madder, he reflected, they were going to need another one.

"Yeah, me neither, but Bruce does and she's his girlfriend," he answered.

At that, Cass turned to him with a murderous look in her eyes. Tim suddenly wanted to back away slowly.

"She knows who we are!" She hissed. "She could ruin everything!"

Shaking his head, he held his hands up in a gesture of non confrontation. "I know Cass and I'm just as angry about that. I get that you're pissed. But I researched her, she's legit. She isn't a super evil genius set to destroy him. She's not a gold digger; she's got her own money. I think…" he swallowed hard at the look Cass was giving him. "I think she could be for real."

"You don't like her either!" She insisted.

"You're right! I don't! I don't like her knowing who we are, I don't like that Bruce trusted her so quickly and I don't like that she can just come here whenever she wants and Bruce acts like she's been here forever! I don't like any of it Cass but it isn't our life! It's Bruce's!"

They stood, staring at each other, at an impasse. Bruce and Connie had gone upstairs, supposedly to talk. Tim had rolled his eyes at that even though Alfred had given him a death glare for doing so. Cass had been totally silent throughout the day at work and once she had arrived home. Even during dinner she had been downright rude.

Tim had taken the day to cool down and relax while it seemed Cass had stewed and festered. Sighing, Tim took a fighting stance and prepared for some serious pain. If Cass patrolled in the mind set she was in at the current moment they would be calling paramedics more often than they normally did.

She easily bested him the first two matches but he soon discovered the grove she was in. Though she could read his body and anticipate his moves he had known her long enough to know what counters he could expect for certain actions. Their method of sparing was like chess. He could basically count on the moves she would make in reaction to his.

Forty minutes later, they were both sweating and breathing heavily. Tim felt as though he had been fighting an army of ninjas for two days. He would most definitely need a quick ice bath before patrol, he told himself.

When they heard clapping from the doorway they both stopped. Standing there, shaking his head, was the oldest member of the 'jr. bat club,' as one of the titans had so aptly named them.

"You guys mad about something?"

Dick's seemingly innocent question had Cass balling her fists at her sides. Dick thought if she were capable of it she would have had fire coming out of her eyes and ears. He tried not to shrink away from her.

"Seriously, what's going on that Alfred had to all me? He said you guys needed some serious big brother time."

Turning on her heel Cass went back to the punching bag, leaving Tim to deal with Dick.

Shaking his head, Tim went to the other side of the gym and hoisted himself onto the balance beam, taking a precarious seat. "Yeah, it was kind of a difficult day, I guess."

"What's going on, little brother?"

Tim managed a small smile at Dick's term of endearment. "Connie showed up last night around four in the morning. Cass and I were just getting in and we heard them yelling in the foyer. I figured it was no big deal but she ended up staying the night. And then this morning they come down and Connie…well she recognized me. And then Bruce told us she knows everything."

Dick had been nodding throughout Tim's short monologue but his jaw dropped at the last statement. "What do you mean, she knows everything? He told her he's Batman? Are you serious?" Having a hard time grasping the concept Dick wondered if he had heard Tim wrong.

"She said she just knew, as if he didn't tell her. I didn't get the whole story."

Leaning against the beam for a minute, Dick looked towards Cass and winced. "That why she's so gung hoe about killing that bag?"

Nodding, Tim answered. "Yup."

It was more than a minute before Dick could find words again. "Where are they now?"

"Upstairs, 'talking,'" Tim punctuated the use of the word with air quotes, effectively conveying to Dick what Tim thought they were actually doing.

"Well I'm going to interrupt them, whatever they're doing."

With that Dick turned to leave but was quickly grabbed by a distraught looking Tim. "What do you mean? Are you suicidal? Bruce would kill us! And then he'd resurrect us so he could kill us again! Wait till he comes downstairs, you idiot!"

Scowling, Dick shoved his hands in his pockets. "You know, I have got two kids and a wife at home? And a full time job and a career as a vigilante? I can't be here all the time picking up the pieces for you guys! I can't believe Alfred felt the need to call me for this! You two must have been real snots to her if he thought I was needed!"

Taken aback, Tim balled his fists at his side. "How do we know we can trust her? She knows who all of us are! Bruce and Alfred are under some kind of spell!"

His jaw dropped again as he studied the man he had considered a younger brother for many years. "Have you finally lost it," Dick finally asked.

Obviously offended, Tim took an involuntary step back. "What? What does that mean?"

"It means you have to be insane to think someone both Bruce and Alfred trust isn't on the up and up. Maybe, gee, did it ever occur to you, that she makes him happy? Maybe she's a nice lady with an exceptional high tolerance for bullshit. You don't know because you probably never asked her. You just assumed that if Bruce likes her she must be evil! He's liked plenty of non-evil women!"

"All of them broke his heart though."

They both turned at the unexpected sound of Cass's voice. She continued, "The ones that weren't evil ended up leaving or dying or both and he always gets hurt. What will be different?"

Sighing, Dick smoothed his hair back and fiddled with his pony tail for a moment before speaking. "I don't know what will be different; my crystal ball is in the shop this week. All I know is he took her on a two week vacation and told her his secret and she hung out here all day with Alfred. I know Alfred's in love with her and thinks she's the best thing since sliced cheese. I know Bruce looks at with a look I haven't seen in a long time."

"What look," Cass immediately asked.

"Like…like he's interested. Like he sees a puzzle he wants to solve. I've seen lust and infatuation and faked intrigue but I haven't seen genuine interest in a long time and I saw it when we all had dinner together. He likes her and that's okay. Cass, did you ever read anything other than sincerity from her?"

Reluctant to answer, she just shook her head.

"See! You would have seen it if she were lying! Or if she were pretending, or anything. I am sure Timmy put that big brain to work and researched her till he knew when she lost her two front teeth. I looked into her and she's a real person with a real background and a real story. Let's all just go with the flow on this one, though that is the thing this family is most definitely the worst at."

With heavy sighs and reluctant nods, the two younger members of the clan went back to the gym. Dick shook his head and went off in search of his wayward parent. He wondered why he had to be the peacekeeper. In his family, he thought, it was the toughest job of all.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

A quick search had found Bruce in his study; Connie had retreated back to her apartment. Tossing himself onto the leather couch a few feet from Bruce's desk, Dick released a colossal sigh. He sat, silent, for a few minutes, listening to Bruce type on his laptop.

"All of us are crazy. You know that, right?"

Looking up, Bruce merely nodded.

Wincing slightly, Dick realized Bruce was not going to make this conversation easy. Kicking himself Dick wondered why he had thought this would be anything but like pulling teeth without Novocain.

"So Connie was here, I heard."

Fighting the urge to sigh, Bruce nodded again.

Grinding his teeth for a moment, Dick nodded back. "And you told her you're the Dark Knight and we're your sidekicks and we live to fight for justice, huh? And she took that pretty well I guess."

It donned on Bruce that Dick was absolutely not going to be deterred from this conversation. Saving his programs he closed the laptop and moved to the couch opposite where Dick was sprawled.

"The night Ubu attacked me, before I went to Egypt, I was injured. I went to Leslie's and Connie stumbled in after I had taken the mask off. I didn't tell her anything, she found out by dumb luck."

Taking that bit of information in, Dick nodded again. "Okay…and she was alright with that?"

"She was…surprised." A small smirk turned the corners of his lips upwards. "She was beyond furious with me that night, but not because she found out about my night job. I didn't see her after that until yesterday when she showed up at the front door. I meant to tell her to go away…and I did, but that didn't stick."

Dick was grinning like a Cheshire cat now. "Oh boy, dark and gloomy has met his match in the stubborn department, huh? Well, good for her. Kudos to her for standing up to you."

Frowning, Bruce shook his head. "She's strong willed. She knows what she wants, but this isn't a game, Dick. This isn't all a good time."

Sitting up, Dick leaned his elbows on his knees. "What aren't you telling me?"

He had been debating whether to tell his children about Connie's disease. He knew he would tell Alfred but his three charges were another matter all together. If he believed he wouldn't become seriously involved with Connie, he wouldn't have told them. It seemed to him, however, that Connie was going to be in his life for the rest of the duration of hers.

Clearing his throat, he wondered if this was the appropriate time to have this discussion with Dick. Knowing it had to happen eventually he took a deep breath and started in.

"Connie told me a while ago that she…is sick. She and I are becoming serious, Dick, but that doesn't mean…" His words suddenly failed him. He realized it was one thing to think such thoughts and another entirely to give voice to them.

Dick saw Bruce's difficulty. "Sick how?"

Bruce's intake of breath was sharper than he had meant it to be. "She has cancer, Dick. She's known for a long time and she told me weeks ago. We decided…I decided…we went ahead with the relationship anyway. It wasn't going to get serious…but it has."

He realized he was finishing lamely but he found he couldn't express himself very well in words at the moment.

Dick swallowed hard. "Bruce…dad, listen to me. This is huge. This is a huge commitment. You're tying yourself to a dying woman. She's great and I really like her but this cannot end well. You're sure about this?"

A small laugh escaped his lips before Bruce answered. "No, Dick, I'm not sure. I know I like being with her, though. And I can't leave her now…"

Fear spiked through Dick at those words. Bruce had a habit of trying to save the un-savable. Dick had watched it happen over and over again in the nearly twenty-five years he had been in Bruce's care and tutelage. Taking a deep breath he wondered how much of his worry he should convey.

"Don't stay with her out of guilt." Was all Dick managed to say.

Shaking his head, Bruce sighed again. "I'm not. I like this woman," he heard himself say, to his surprise.

Realizing he was very close to divulging his feelings for Connie he stood and quickly stalked to the window. What was it Cass called it, Bruce thought. A small smile tugged at his lips when he remembered her words, 'too much togetherness.' Bruce could suddenly relate.

Dick was torn. He wanted to see Bruce happy but that happiness was destined to turn to pain in this circumstance. He flinched as though he had been struck when he heard his wife's voice in his head. Of course it would lead to pain, the voice said. All relationships ended eventually. No one lived forever.

Making up his mind, Dick stood and approached Bruce. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he spoke to his father's reflection. "If this makes you happy, even just for a little while, then I say go for it."

Bruce managed to keep his surprise fairly well hidden. He had expected Dick to try and talk him out of continuing to see Connie. "Thanks," was all he could manage to say.

"You should tell the others, though. Don't let this surprise them. You never know, Cass might lighten up a little if she hears this."

"Cass isn't the pitying kind," Bruce said, mostly to himself.

With that, Dick removed his hand from Bruce's shoulder and started towards the doorway. "I have to go home, but please keep me in the loop, okay? I don't want anymore panicked calls from anybody or second hand information." His voice was teasing enough to get away with his words.

Bruce recognized Dick's good humor and nodded. Once the younger man had left Bruce took a deep breath and started towards the gym. Tonight wasn't the night for another heart to heart conversation but he figured he could work through the conversation in his head while pummeling his youngest charges.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

It had been a month since Connie and Bruce had come to an agreement. That was how he referred to it in his head. They never pressured each other, but came and went as they pleased. She stayed at the Manor often and he would sometimes go to her apartment.

Spring was giving way to summer weather. In the weeks he and Connie had been seeing each other Bruce had felt a heaviness begin to lift from his chest. His guilt slowly ebbed and was replaced by the unquestioning acceptance he saw in Connie's eyes. She patched him up after patrols and he comforted her the best way he knew how.

They had started to cling to other as they would to life rafts in a turbulent sea. Bruce recognized it but had decided not to act about it yet. As reluctant as he was to admit it to himself, he enjoyed the feeling. He enjoyed depending on a person when nearly nothing was asked in return.

When Bruce needed time alone, which was fairly often, Connie let him be. She seemed to know when it was time to go to her apartment and when she should stay within arm's reach. There were many times she found herself in the kitchen with Alfred for hours while Bruce brooded or brainstormed. She was always ready to go to him when he called for her.

Waking up in his arms thrilled her being and a sense of security she had been lacking for a very long time had overcome her. She felt as though she had been lost for many years and suddenly she had been rescued and taken back to civilization. When she needed rousing intellectual debate he was there to fulfill that need. When she needed a quiet shoulder to lean on, he was there then too.

They fell into an easy pattern that involved no demands or expectations. They reacted to each other on a minute by minute basis. At the moment, though, Connie was wishing she was at her apartment. It would be easier to suffer there than in his presence. She was trying to retain what little dignity she could.

Flushing the toilet, she sat back and leaned her head against the cool tile of the tub. Hearing the door open, she turned to see Bruce leaning against the doorjamb. He only regarded her for a moment before grabbing a hand towel and rinsing it with cold water in the sink.

"I think…" she started, "I think maybe the tumor is pressing on the chemoreceptor trigger zone. I'm going to go in for a MRI tomorrow."

Nodding, he watched as she dabbed the cold cloth to her face. "Can they prescribe something for you?"

A short laugh escaped her. "I'll prescribe myself something if they don't."

Glad she still had her wit about her he nodded and backed into the bedroom. Fighting back a sigh, he stared unseeing into his walk-in closet. She had warned him about this. Of course, in addition to her warnings, he had done his own research. Vomiting was a sure sign the tumor was growing worse. She had also been having dizzy spells and was starting to become easily tired.

Trying to put the idea that she may only have a few months left to live out of his head he went about choosing a shirt and tie for the day.

Connie stumbled out of the bathroom and practically collapsed onto the bed. "This is awful," she muttered.

"Do you think another surgery could relieve the symptoms?"

She cringed. "I had one brain surgery over a year ago to reduce the bulk of the tumor. The kind I have though…it has little arms and legs that stretch everywhere. You can't get rid of it without getting rid of the whole brain. I'll have to wait to see the MRI results, but maybe…maybe not."

Sitting next to her he stroked her hair away from her face. "I'll call Leslie. Get some rest today."

Scowling, she weighed the advantages and disadvantages of fighting with him. She decided to test the waters. "I'm a big girl, Bruce. I'm sure I can handle a few hours in the clinic."

"I'll tie you to the bed…"

She couldn't tell if he was kidding or not which she found only slightly disturbing. "Under other circumstances, I would have a very good reaction to those words."

He had to smile at that. He wondered in what situations she couldn't draw on her seemingly unending reservoir of humor. "Don't go in today. All Leslie needs is you throwing up over a sick toddler in the waiting room."

Deciding fighting with Bruce was pointless she climbed closer to the top of the bed and buried herself under the down comforter. "Only because I like you, you know. That's the only reason I listen to you."

"You listen to me because you know I'm right." Looking at her, he smiled sadly. The moment her head had hit the pillow she had dozed off.

After closing the draperies and turning the lights off, Bruce made his way downstairs. He needed breakfast and a lot of coffee before tackling the many board members he was going to be meeting with that morning. Fighting the urge to cringe at the thought of board meetings he reached the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

Cass had started to come around. She smiled at Connie's sarcasm at times despite herself and she couldn't help but notice the effect the woman had on Bruce. He seemed calmer since she had started staying with them. Tim had come to accept the situation much sooner than Cass had.

Listening to the conversations around him, Bruce wrestled with himself. He had been meaning to tell the others Connie was ill. Every time he saw Alfred, though, the words escaped him. He knew he was hurting the old man more by not telling him but Alfred was so fond of Connie he found it impossible to broach the subject. Connie had shied away from the subject, leaving the responsibility of discussing it on Bruce's shoulders.

Realizing someone had asked him a question, he returned his attention to the people around him.

Cass looked none to happy with being ignored. "I said, where's you lady friend?"

Bruce smirked at the nickname Cass had given Connie. It was only used when said lady friend wasn't within earshot, though, a fact which had not gone unnoticed by Bruce.

"She isn't feeling well today. She's in bed."

Guilt stabbed through Bruce at Alfred's look of concern. "I shall tend to the young lady myself throughout the day then, sir."

Nodding slightly absentmindedly, Bruce focused on the dark liquid in his cup. He suddenly couldn't bring himself to eat breakfast. Muttering a goodbye to those in the room he made his escape to the foyer to grab his briefcase before going for the car.

Tim had not failed to notice Bruce's countenance and immediately alarms had rung in his head. Something was bothering the Bat and he intended to find out what. Replaying the conversation in his head Tim decided Bruce was upset over something that had to do with Connie. Perhaps, he told himself, Bruce was just upset that Connie as ill.

The jaded part of Tim's mind laughed. Bruce would not act like that over the sniffles of his girlfriend, even if she was special. Shaking his head, he narrowed his eyes at the door Bruce had left through. Cass caught his look and immediately her hackles rose. She could see Tim was suddenly puzzling through something.

Once Alfred had left to check on Connie, the younger members of the family picked themselves up and headed for the car bay. They had taken to traveling together since Bruce had started spending so much time with Connie.

Never one for preamble, Cass started immediately. "What is it?"

"Something has Bruce off kilter. I want to know what."

With her curt nod, Tim knew he had the perfect partner to solve this latest riddle with. Smiling a little devilishly he wondered if he should be enjoying this as much as he thought he was going to.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Connie had insisted on going alone to the hospital for her MRI. Bruce had argued with her for a short time but he had quickly recognized her stubbornness and acquiesced to her desire to go alone. He had reluctantly gone into the office; he would have been much happier waiting at the Manor for her return and report on her condition. For nearly twenty minutes he had been tapping his pen on his desk, staring blankly at the financial reports on his desk.

Sighing, he reached for the phone and asked his secretary, for the third time that afternoon, if Connie had called for him. Again for the third time she had answered in the negative and assured him he would be notified if Connie called. He recognized his obsessive desire to know and understand everything around him was driving him to inappropriate behavior.

He hated not being the first one to know information. He prided himself on always being apprised and up to date on situations, if not the discoverer of said information. This time, he had to sit patiently and wait for someone to tell him what was going on. It was a feeling he was unfamiliar with and inherently disliked.

Standing, he took a turn around the room, repressing the desire to start into combinations or floor gymnastics. The office was certainly large enough. He almost rolled his eyes at himself. He hadn't had such childish desires sine he was in his twenties and pretending to be Bruce Wayne had still been difficult.

Grabbing his coat and stuffing papers into his brief case he left the office without much of a goodbye to his secretary. He was certainly not needed at the office that day. Avoiding the main elevators he instead took the service elevator to the underground car park. Cass never took those and he intended to avoid the younger woman at all costs. She would immediately see his anxiety and smirk at him for it. Which, for her, was the equivalent of normal people pointing and laughing. He also didn't know how he would explain said anxiety to her.

His restlessness did not improve once he was home. Alfred pointedly left him alone once seeing his mood. Refusing to allow himself to pace he instead changed and went into his gym. Able to forget about the passage of time, he started with a floor routine, moved on to the beam and was finishing his work out with a danger room exercise.

After dodging the last laser and spinning disc he turned to the door just in time to see Connie coming through it. Grabbing a towel and a bottle of water, he realized he had been working out for over three hours. Glad for the distraction his exercise had afforded him he beckoned to her before sitting on the mats.

She sat next to him, a pensive expression on her face.

Alarmed at her expression, he gently took hold of her arm. "What is it?"

Not knowing how to start, she swallowed hard. "The scan showed the tumor had progressed a little bit, but I was expecting that."

When she didn't continue, he prompted her, "And?"

"It isn't pressing anywhere near where it would have to be to cause the symptoms I've been having for the past few days. It isn't the increased pressure, either. They did some more tests after the scan and everything pertinent is within normal limits."

Dissatisfied with the explanation, or lack there of, he shook his head slightly. "Something is making you throw up everything you eat. This has been going on for four days, Connie."

"I'll know more once the blood test results come back," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "I know you like straight answers, Bruce, but cancer doesn't always keep to the course it's supposed to. I'm going back in tomorrow for some more tests."

"Such as?" Hiding his alarm well, he pulled her a little closer.

"They think…"taking a deep breath, she centered herself before continuing. "They think maybe I have an ulcer or something like that."

Cass wasn't the only one who could read people, Bruce thought wryly. She was leaving something out. "Or the cancer spread to your stomach." Voicing it out loud was frightening and more than a little upsetting but he had never let discomfort hold his tongue before.

Nodding ever so slightly, she looked up into his eyes and saw the neutrality that gave her strength. If she had seen pity or fear or remorse she would have lost the strength to speak. His objectivity and quiet bravery were contagious and she silently thanked whatever higher power listening for giving him to her.

"Yeah, that is a possibility. The cancer I have doesn't normally metastasize anywhere else but there is a possibility I have more than one kind; it could have mutated. Isn't that great?" A mirthless laugh escaped her lips. "Anyway, I don't know anything yet. No one does. I have scans and an endoscope tomorrow. If there's a bleed they'll cauterize it and I go back to normal, whatever that is."

Giving her a slight smirk, he nodded. "I'm coming with you tomorrow."

Immediately pulling away from him, she shook her head. "Absolutely not, Bruce. This is going to well; I'm not screwing it up."

Allowing a small bit of confusion to play on his face, he rested his hand on her arm. "How could my accompanying you to the hospital screw this up?"

"You'll see me in a stupid hospital gown with tubes everywhere…and you'll want to take care of me even more. You'll want to rescue me more than you do now. You have a protective streak ten miles wide and I refuse to do anything to exacerbate it."

Slightly offended, he narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't go alone to face something like that."

"You face scary things alone all the time. Should I go out on patrol with you to make sure you're okay? Do you need an emotional cheerleader out there with you?" Her frustration was peaking but she was trying to keep it under tight reign.

A low growl escaped his throat and without consciously thinking about it his voice dropped. "This is different. And I am not alone out there; I have people to back me up."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she recognized the Bat beginning to take over. She thought if a psychiatrist ever got a hold of Bruce he would most defiantly be diagnosed with multiple personalities, as ridiculous as she thought that was. "It's not different and I will be fine. I couldn't stand to have you looking at me while I do this."

"What the hell does that mean?" He ground out.

"It means you'll look at me differently. You'll look at me with pity or sympathy or guilt or some nonsense and I couldn't stand that. You'll want to comfort me and that will just make me feel worse because you won't be able to fix anything they find that's wrong. You won't be able to do anything; you'll just be waiting around holding my hand and I can't stand the thought of that."

Attempting to attack the problem with logic, Bruce started into his next argument. "What if they find something and decide to do immediate surgery? When will I find out you're in the OR? When you wake up and call me, hours after the fact? You can't keep me in the dark, Connie."

Exasperated, she stood suddenly and regretted it. Her head swam and she wanted to throw up but she focused on her anger instead, completely ignoring her physical ailments. "You are ridiculous! There won't be emergency surgery because despite what you may think vomiting is not an emergency! I will come home tomorrow with news from the front, I promise!"

Not willing to compromise or settle, Bruce stood as well. "I am going and that is final. Just try keeping me out, Connie!"

The urge to slap him was great but she refrained herself. "You are impossible! Damn you, Bruce!" With that she turned on her heel and practically stormed from the gym.

Left in the wake of her rage Bruce suddenly felt tired. Shaking his head, he sat back on the mat and closed his eyes. He had the feeling dinner wasn't going to go very well and one meditation session afterwards just didn't seem like enough for the night. One before dinner and one after would hopefully calm him enough so he wouldn't be useless while on patrol. Patrolling un-centered was a sure fire way to get himself or someone else killed.

Breathing deeply he hoped Connie would calm down by the time he returned from patrol. She could be downright frightening when she was truly angry and she seemed well on the way to furious. Putting that from his mind he concentrated on his breathing right up until Tim told him it was time for dinner.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Connie's mood had not improved by the time he had returned from patrol. It did not improve that morning through breakfast or during the car ride to the hospital. Bruce had made excuses to Alfred, Tim and Cass about where they were going and Connie had been convincing enough that no one questioned the couple.

Her arms were crossed across her chest and she looked ready to throw daggers at him as they sat in the waiting room but he refused to rise to the bait. In a contest of a wills, he as fairly sure he could prevail. The morning progressed painfully slowly. Most of their time was spent waiting for doctors or tests to be preformed.

Connie had more patience than did Bruce, but he figured she had been doing this for nearly two years and was used to it. He, on the other hand, was used to action and results. Waiting for people to read scan results or consult other specialists was nearly maddening for him. He had a great reserve of patience, but not in instances when he thought he could get things done faster. Those episodes just served to annoy him.

Forcing himself to look somewhat relaxed yet slightly pensive, what he imagined a concern boyfriend would look like, he patted Connie's shoulder comfortingly. He received a death glare that would make anyone in the Bat family proud of her. Part of him wanted to growl a response at her but he instead plastered a seemingly understanding smile on his face.

By the early afternoon Connie was chaffing at her confines and Bruce was ready to put every specialist in the hospital through a wall. Preferably head first. After what seemed to Bruce to be an inordinate amount of time a female woman in a long lab coat entered the room with a forced smile on her face.

Bruce's first instinct was to stand to his full height and intimidate the woman into telling him what was wrong with Connie. Ruthlessly quelling that desire, he instead smiled a little unsurely and leaned forward in a manner that he thought conveyed hopeful curiosity. He sometimes hated having to pass for normal; it took quite a bit of effort.

"Well we got all the blood work and scan results back a few minutes ago. The cancer hasn't metastasized, so that's good news."

Connie was not hiding her feelings the way Bruce was. She looked ready to grab the attending by her throat. "And?" She asked with no small amount of ire.

"The cancer isn't causing your symptoms." Looking towards Bruce, the attending seemed to want to ask him to leave.

Bruce didn't doubt that both women would be more comfortable with him outside. Planting his feet even more firmly, he decided to stay put for two reasons. Not only did he want to hear what the doctor had to say first hand but he also was enjoying the fact that he was making the attending uncomfortable and Connie mad. Part of him recognized that was lightly sadistic, but he couldn't convince himself to really care.

"Perhaps I should talk to Dr. Marsters alone," the attending said.

Smiling one of his famous playboy smiles at the doctor, Bruce reached for Connie's hand. "Oh I think I should be here for whatever you have to say."

Fed up with the act Bruce had been forced to put on for the majority of day, Connie squeezed his hand so hard she hoped she bruised him. His smile didn't falter for a moment which made her squeeze harder. "He can stay," was her clipped reply. She knew she had little chance of making him leave; once he had dug his heels in he was impossible to move.

Nodding, the attending took a small breath before starting. "We ordered a series of tests to be preformed on your blood. We tested for all the known cancer markers and the appropriate ones were elevated of course. We did chemistry testing, which showed you are slightly dehydrated which is to be expected from the vomiting. We also decided to do a pregnancy test just to make sure…"

Connie's eyes widened as her jaw dropped. It was Bruce's turn to squeeze her hand. Without that physical connection she was sure she would have been out of the bed with her hands around the doctor's neck.

"You said," Connie ground out before the physician could continue, "they all said I couldn't have children. Since the first round of chemo, I was told I couldn't conceive!" Her voice had risen in volume as she had spoken.

Bruce could see the rage in her eyes and he was having a hard time controlling the emotions boiling inside of him. He had nearly fallen off the chair when the attending had mentioned a pregnancy test.

"Can we back up?" He managed. "You said you did the test. Tell me very simply what the result was."

Addressing Connie, the attending spoke, "You're pregnant."

Everything around her seemed to stop moving for a moment. The bed was spinning and the only thing anchoring her to reality was Bruce's steady pressure on her hand. Swallowing hard she fought to urge to be sick right then and there.

"That isn't possible," she managed.

"I know," the doctor said, "All the tests that were done after your chemo indicated you were infertile. We can't explain the sudden change in your physiology. Your hormone levels are spiked, there is the possibility that the tumor pressed on certain cortexes causing higher than normal hormone levels which in turn caused a sudden ovulation. We really can't determine…"

The young doctor was cut off by Connie's sudden outburst. "I'm thirty-eight years old! I'm dying and I'm too damn old to have a baby and if anyone had told me there was any kind of chance I could get pregnant I would have taken some god damned precautions!"

"You're a doctor, you know that…"

With that response started, Bruce leapt from the chair and grabbed the attending by the elbow. Within a second he had ushered the stunned doctor out of the room and closed the door. Connie had been ready to commit homicide and he figured he had just saved the life of the young doctor.

Leaning against the wall a slow breath escaped him. "I thought…."

"Yeah me too," she said angrily. "I had testing done when I was married to David. We tried…" Tears had suddenly sprung to her eyes. "We tried for three years before I finally went to get tested. They told me I had slim chances, even with hormone injections. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of kids in the first place so I let it drop. And then, after the surgery and the chemo and radiation they told me my ovaries were fried. I went to the best doctors, Bruce, and they told me my slim chances had dropped to none. I thought…"

Tears were streaming feely down her face but Bruce couldn't make himself move.

"Why now?" She sobbed. "Now of all times!" Burying her head in her hand she sobbed while he watched in abject horror.

"We can…" he fought for words for a moment. "We can take care of it."

Fiery brown eyes met his. "You're telling me to abort?"

His breath caught. He had always supported woman's rights and the right to choose but saying it to the woman carrying his child hurt him. He did not want a baby, he told himself.

"Connie…please think this through. Let's go home; we have time to figure out what to do."

The words sounded much calmer than he felt. He felt like he was going to collapse to the floor at any moment. When he moved to his silent partner he found his legs were made of lead.

They signed the necessary paperwork and silently made their way to the car park. The ride home was as silent as the ride to the hospital had been but this time the air wasn't filled with angry silence. It was filled with trepidation and terror. Bruce's white knuckled grip on the steering wheel told Connie all she needed to know about his feelings of the situation.

Connie had silent tears falling down her cheeks and Bruce knew he couldn't speak at the moment. He didn't trust himself not to say something completely insensitive. Satisfying himself with focusing entirely on driving he waited until they were home and Connie was heading upstairs to practically run to his study and lock the doors.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Tim had noticed the change in the dynamics of the house the moment he returned home from the Wayne Enterprises. Alfred had informed them, with slight confusion in his voice, that Bruce had locked himself in his study and Connie in their bedroom. Cass had given Tim a pointed look, as if to say she had told him so.

He had immediately tied to track Bruce's movements through the day. He knew he and Connie had left together but they had given some song and dance about spending the day together downtown. Tim had known that was total bullocks the moment Bruce had opened his mouth.

He knew Bruce had never come into the office. Making a few phone calls to Bruce's favorite restaurants, Tim quickly found they hadn't frequented any of them. Tapping his fingers against the arm rest of his chair he made a decision. Rising, he quickly made his way to the cave with Cassandra on his heels.

Opening the channel to Oracle Tim waited patiently. It was nearing seven in the evening and he knew Oracle didn't become very active until closer to midnight. She tried to spend as much time with her kids as possible during the day. It took her nearly a full five minutes to respond to his hails.

"Hey Timmy. What can the all seeing Oracle do for you today?"

Forcing a relaxed look on his face, he smiled. "I need a favor. A no-Bruce-involvement favor."

She stopped mid breath. Between the look on Tim's face and the odd introduction to his request she knew she wasn't going to like what he asked of her. "Tim…I don't like this already. I thought Bruce was doing well these past weeks?"

"He is," Tim assured her. "He's been great. Today though he and Connie went out and didn't give us a straight answer about where they were going. They got back and Bruce locked himself in his study. Neither of them came out of hiding for dinner."

She took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Did it occur to you they wanted time away from the Inquisition? You and Cass have been all over Connie since you first met her! I don't think you've seen your apartment for over a month! Maybe they needed some privacy."

Leaning forward a look came into his eyes that Barbara had seen many times in Bruce's. Tim was not going to drop the subject anytime soon. "So what about the separate hiding places tonight? Neither will talk to anybody, even each other. How do you explain that?"

She countered quickly. "Maybe they had a fight."

Cass inserted herself into the conversation. "Why not just tell us where they were going?"

Throwing her hands up in frustration, she shook her head. "'Cause Bruce is so into full disclosure! You two have lost it, you know that? Honestly, I'm hanging up."

"Barbara! I'm serious about this! Something is up and Bruce isn't talking to anybody. Something's been bothering him for a few days, I can see it. What is he hiding?" Tim was practically on the edge of his seat.

Groaning, Barbara rubbed her eyes. "What do you want from me, Tim?"

Taking a deep breath Tim tried to prepare himself for Barbara's reaction to his request. "I want you hack into the real time satellites and tell me where they were all day."

Her reaction was swift and brutal. "Are you kidding me?" She was yelling at this point, prompting Dick to come and investigate. Holding her hand up to indicate he was to be quiet, she continued. "What is wrong with you two? Maybe they went to a hotel room for the day or walked barefoot on the beach or saw a movie! I can't believe you two are so suspicious of everything! Let the man have a little privacy, for god's sake!"

Hearing the rising conversation a pit started to form in Dick's stomach. He had a sinking suspicion of what Bruce and Connie were really doing all day. Swallowing hard he approached his wife's consol and took a seat behind her.

"We don't know enough about her to trust her. Maybe she took him back to her lair." Cass said quietly.

Barbara wanted to jump through the screen and strangle them both. "That is uncalled for Cassandra. I think we've all established she's not evil."

Dick was cringing. This conversation was going downhill very fast.

"What's the problem with just taking a look Barbara? If you think she's so great then you won't have a problem telling me where they were." A sly smile was tugging at the corners of Tim's mouth.

Barbara looked ready to launch herself at Tim's image. "You are unbelievable," she hissed. "Bruce finally found a good thing and you are hell bound on destroying it! Let them alone!" The final statement was an order and everyone knew it.

Cutting the connection, Barbara turned to her husband. She was fuming. "Can you believe them?"

Clearing his throat, he looked down. "Open the connection again, Babs." His voice was just above a whisper.

Bruce wasn't going to tell them, Dick realized. They would be lowering Connie into the ground before Bruce told them she was sick. Shaking his head he tried to tell himself he wasn't angry that he had to be the one to have this conversation with his wife and two younger partners.

The stunned expression on her face spoke volumes to Dick. "What do you mean? Dick, you can't possibly agree with them?"

"No, I don't agree with their motives at all. Those two are loony-toons. But Babs…there is something they should know…" Looking at the clock he sighed. He needed to be on a stakeout by ten and there was no way he could get to Gotham and back and have the proper conversation in between if he was to catch the city's biggest meth suppliers in the act tonight.

Barbara looked very closely at her husband. He was dying to disclose, she thought. Or at least he felt he had to. "What's going on, Dick?"

"Look, I should go there and talk to them but I have about two hours before I need to be on the street and I have to warm up before patrol. Just bring them back online and I'll tell you guys where Bruce probably was today."

Her shocked expression did not ebb. Turning back to the computer she reopened the link to the Batcave and was not surprised to see Tim and Cass in the exact positions they were in when she had cut them off.

"Okay…" Dick started, "I want no interruptions. I'll say this fast and then I'm out of here. You guys," pointing to Tim and Cass, "are crazy. You need to know that. I will tell you why Bruce and Connie formed such a close bond so quickly and where I think they were today, though." He had to take a deep breath and force himself to form the words he was about to say. "Bruce told me last month that Connie's sick. They were probably at a doctor's office or something. Now let all this go and let them alone. They deserve a little peace and privacy."

Cass stayed silent and hid her surprise better than Tim did. "What do you mean she's sick?" He asked.

Taking another deep breath, Dick stood. "She has cancer," he said quietly. "I don't know what kind, so don't ask. All I know is Bruce isn't going to leave her. He probably took her to see an oncologist today. Now let those two alone."

With that he turned on his heel and stalked towards his gym. Barbara wanted to stop him and talk to him but she knew she couldn't do that in front of Tim and Cass.

"I hope you two are happy now. Can you let your suspicions go or do you still think she's going to bite off his head and lay her eggs in him?" With that she cut the connection for the second time that night and immediately turned to go after her husband.

Tim swallowed hard. "I should talk to him," he whispered.

Cass nodded but knew Tim would do no such thing. Tim was almost as bad at expressing emotions as Bruce was. He would think very hard about what he would say to Bruce but he would never actually say it.

Turning towards the gym she decided she would work out her own feelings of the situation the best way she knew how. Just because she knew how to form the words didn't mean she knew what words to form. Most of the time, she thought, silence was the better option.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Knocking lightly, Alfred fought back a sigh when he received no answer. His employer's privacy was paramount to Alfred but he hadn't seen his ward lock himself away in a very long time and he could no longer assuage his own worry. Using his skeleton key he slowly unlocked and opened the door.

Bruce was sitting in his desk chair, turned towards the window. A very far away look was in his eyes. He seemed to be staring but not seeing the expansive grounds outside the window.

Closing the door softly behind him, Alfred entered the room and gingerly sat in the chair in front of Bruce's desk.

"Sir? Master Bruce?" He spoke in the softest tones possible. Bruce turned his head imperceptibly towards him.

It was difficult to shake himself from his reverie and Bruce realized with slight alarm he didn't know how long he had been sitting in that chair. Forcing himself to turn to face Alfred, he thought it must have been some time since he had moved. His muscles protested the shift in position.

The concern on Alfred's face was evident. "Sir, are you alright?"

Bruce swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He had no idea how to tell Alfred what had happened that day.

They sat on silence for a nearly a minute until Bruce spoke. His voice was soft and low, as if it took great effort to find words to speak. "Connie…this is very complicated, Alfred."

"Is she well, Master Bruce?" The suspicions Alfred had harbored for three days, since he had tended to Connie when she was ill, returned with vengeance.

Shaking his head, he contemplated his hands for a moment while trying to find the words to tell his oldest and dearest friend that the woman who was probably the last hope for Bruce to have a normal life was going to die. In addition to her imminent death was most likely the death of his unborn child. Suddenly overwhelmed with the complications of his life, he closed his eyes for a moment.

"She's dying," he whispered.

Alfred couldn't school his expression fast enough. Grief played across his face before he quickly slipped a mask of neutrality over it. "Dying, sir?"

Nodding, he exhaled slowly before speaking again. "She has cancer. We went to the hospital today for testing."

Alfred was having a hard time deciding how to respond. "How long have you been aware of this, sir?"

"About two months," he whispered.

Taken aback, Alfred closed his eyes and fought for control. "Today's hospital visit did not yield positive results?"

A hybrid of a laugh and a sob escaped him. The corners of his mouth curled upwards ever so slightly in a self deprecating grin. "I don't know…it got a lot more complicated today."

Nodding, Alfred sat a little straighter. "What sort of complications will she be experiencing?"

Looking into his mentor's eyes, Bruce leaned forward. "Would you have stayed with her if you were me? If you knew she was going to die and you couldn't do anything about it. Would you have done the same thing?"

Surprised by the question, Alfred gave it the proper respect it deserved by thinking through his answer for a moment. "I am unsure, sir. I do know that if I loved the lady I could not abandon her in her time of need. Even if I was unsure of my affections, I could not abandon her. I believe, had I been in the same situation, I would have made a very similar choice."

Nodding, Bruce felt a modicum of relief. At least, he thought, he wasn't a total fool. "Alfred, she…I think she wants to do something that will cause a lot of complications. And this has to be a unanimous decision between her and I…and we're at odds."

Recognizing the struggle in his charge, Alfred gave him a kind smile. "I may be of more use to you sir, if I knew the decision you were agonizing over."

It took Bruce some time to respond. Telling Alfred, saying it out loud, would make it real and he wasn't sure he was ready for that. If Alfred knew and they aborted the baby then the older man would grieve that loss as well. If they didn't abort the baby, well, Bruce told himself, he could think about that yet.

He was very good at keeping secrets. He was very good at keeping things to himself. Generally, if he wanted information to stay unknown to others, it did. He was more than capable of making his own decisions and he normally didn't ask for others' advice. They generally gave the wrong answer or the wrong advice or didn't take into consideration everything that Bruce had. He valued his own opinions over those of most people.

There were a few people whose opinion he did respect though. Alfred's opinion he held above all others. Dick, Tim, Cass, Barbara Clark and J'onn's opinions mattered to him. Under most circumstances he would take into consideration what they had to say. Leslie, Jim and Lucius had also proven invaluable to him. In this situation, though, he knew he had to make a decision with only one other person and she was upstairs in his bedroom.

"Alfred, when I figure this out, you'll be the first to know." Standing, he squeezed Alfred's shoulders on his way to the door. "Thank you, old friend."

Standing, Alfred tried to tell himself his sudden weariness was due to his advancing age. It had been many years since he had felt the urge to cry and he imagined tonight he would be in his room with a glass of bourbon and a handkerchief.

The steps seemed never ending. There were no sounds coming from his bedroom and Bruce hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. There was a very good chance she was asleep. Annoyed with himself for his hesitation, he opened the door.

She was curled up in one of the arm chairs that sat in front of the small glass table Bruce sometimes used to eat breakfast. She didn't turn towards him when she heard him enter. It was obvious she had been crying. An empty box of tissues was on the table in front of her and the remnants of the once intact tissues were scattered all around her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, which was a good distance from her, he raked his hands through his hair. He wasn't sure he should be the first one to speak.

"I've been thinking," she started. Her voice was horse from crying so much. "I think…oh, Bruce you're going to hate me…" Her voice trailed off into a whisper he could barely hear.

He knew immediately what decision she had made and anger and fear started wrestling inside him. "This is my decision too." He kept his voice low and quiet and managed to keep most of his emotion from it as well.

Nodding, she chanced a glance at him. "I know…but please…try to understand…"

Standing suddenly, he started pacing. The need to move, to act, had seized him and he knew he would express that energy by yelling if he didn't move. The action allowed him to speak in controlled tones. "I understand that you are going to die, Connie. You may not even make it through the pregnancy; look what it's doing to you already. If you do make it and….the fetus makes it, then you are still going to die and I am going to be left with our child. What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to be happy? Am I supposed to tell you I want you to leave me like this? With a baby, of all things!"

Her voice was quiet and controlled, as if she had already spent all of her angst. "What should I leave you with?"

Thrown by the question he looked down into her eyes and he knew with certainty that she was not going to abort the fetus and he couldn't make her. Grief so acute he nearly doubled over gripped him. Turning from her he immediately started towards the door. Afraid he would hate her if he stayed in the same room with her any longer he decided to make his escape.

He heard a sob tear through her as he left but he knew he would only make it worse if he stayed. He had no encouraging words; he had no comforting gesture to give her. He had logical arguments and demands and few pleas, none of which would serve to make the situation any better.

Ignoring the fact that it was entirely too early to go out on patrol, he made his way down to the cave. Tim and Cass were sitting in front of the computers with odd expressions but he barely registered their presence. He needed to act and if he couldn't do anything about his situation he would try to better those of others.

He heard Tim call to him as he headed for the car but the words were lost on the breeze. Without acknowledging either of his partners he leapt into the Batmobile and tore through the road leading out of the cave.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

He was going to hate her. He would never be able to forgive her, she knew that. If she were in his position she wouldn't forgive her either. There was no way she would live to raise their child. There was even a possibility she wouldn't live long enough to give birth. She wasn't an oncologist but she knew enough to know that the pregnancy would tax her body nearly to the breaking point. She would soon have to go on bed rest.

Picking herself up out of the chair she had been sitting in for hours she packed every personal item she had ever left at Bruce's in the small travel bag she had stored in his closet. She had a few changes of clothes and some makeup and hair styling equipment, the basic things she needed to stay there at night. She was probably never going to able to do that again.

Bruce was a man of routine. He was a man of order and control. His life was anything but predictable but he did exert control over the chaos. He had very specific reactions to everything in life and everything in his life normally bent to his will. Being master of a business empire and the leader of a group of vigilantes, he was used to people following his orders. He was used to things being done a certain way.

A child would disrupt his life completely. He had taken in Dick when the boy had been young but caring for an eight year old and caring for a newborn were two very different things. There would be no way he would be able to look at her after her declaration that she was going to ruin his life.

Not only was she making a decision about their child but she had made it without him. She had been angry at first, when she realized he wasn't going to follow her upstairs to talk. She had desperately wanted to talk to him. She had needed to hear his thoughts and feelings on her giving life to their child. But he had never come and she had stewed in her own anger for hours.

Once her anger started to ebb she had realized he was probably as confused and unsure as she was, if not more so. Taking a deep breath, she had allowed herself to be angry but decided she needed to give him time to work out his feelings with himself. Once that conclusion had been reached she had been struck with an epiphany.

It didn't matter what he wanted. She was carrying a child, a miracle child, the child she had been told she would never have. She had buried her dream of being a mother long ago. Now that she knew a life was growing inside her, though she knew it was selfish and stupid, she couldn't bring herself to destroy it.

She would never see her child learn to ride a bicycle or drive a car or ask a significant other out on a date. She would miss every milestone a child could possibly have. She may not even live to see her child take its first steps, she conceded to herself. Knowing all this, even knowing that being pregnant might kill her, she had to have the baby.

Part of her was going to live on and as selfish as that was she was comforted by the thought. Someone would miss her after she died. That thought struck her so hard she nearly collapsed. Forcing herself to stand straight, she lifted her travel bag and started downstairs to the front door.

Bruce would never forgive her. He would probably want nothing to do with the child but she also knew her child would want for nothing. Bruce would make sure he or she had the best education, the best opportunities. Her child would not be without resources.

Her hands shook as she drove. Continually wiping her eyes to clear the tears from them so she could drive, she took deep, ragged breaths. Nothing, no force on the planet or beyond, was going to force her to rid herself of her baby. No, she told herself, she would send the child to live with someone who would love and care for it.

Composing herself as best she could, she hid her face from the doorman and those in the elevator. Her hair hung around her face and the hood of her jacket was pulled up. If anyone noticed her odd appearance they didn't comment on it.

She wanted to shower and eat but she was too tired to do either. Stripping her clothes off she pulled on one of Bruce's shirts he had left there. Sitting on her couch in her underwear and his sweater, she hugged herself. The best thing to ever happen to her was over, she thought.

Bruce would want her to end her pregnancy and he would continue to try and convince her of such. Knowing this forced her to admit to herself that she could no longer see him. It would hurt too much to be around him, knowing as she did how much he disapproved of her decision.

Cursing out loud she slammed her palms into the throw pillows. She had told him not to come to the hospital. She had told him it would lead to the ruination of everything. Of course he hadn't listened. He never listened to anyone. Cursing at the top of her lungs she hit the pillow again.

She could have hidden the pregnancy and then slipped away one night. She could have made a decision without him standing over her. Laughing at herself, then, she wondered if her decision would have been different and then knew it would not have been. Whether he had been there or not, the moment she heard the impossible had happened their relationship had died.

Still angry at him, she wrapped an afghan around herself and curled into a ball on her couch. Wondering where Bruce was at that moment, she said a silent prayer for his safety. He was an ass, she told herself, but an ass that was putting his life on the line for others. She had to respect that at least.

At the moment Connie was praying for him Bruce was standing on top of an old hotel that had gone to seed. It was now home to the homeless and the addicted and the women who sold their bodies to feed themselves and their habits. He watched the denizens traverse in and out of the repugnant smelling building but he didn't stop any of them.

Scaring away johns and hookers wasn't the reason he was there. Stopping the young and the old from putting needles in their arms was not his purpose in life. He simply watched them, knowing full well that eventually he would meet some of them, whether in the streets or in the morgue. Statistically, an alarming number of the people he was watching would end up murdered.

A violent sigh was fighting itself from his body but he managed to keep silent. He just wanted to watch the interactions below him. He wanted to study the problems of people other than himself. He wanted to contemplate the lives of the unfortunates below him.

When he had seen his fill and his heart was heavier than ever he moved on. He recognized the self destructive behavior for what it was. He was punishing himself with depressing thoughts and actions. Torturing himself by watching horrors he could do nothing about.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he dropped down to the ground in front of a kid trying to steal a whore's purse at knife point. The kid was obviously strung out and was probably in more danger from the whore than she was from him but Batman scared him away with a glare and growl and leapt back up to the fire escape.

Firing a grapple he climbed through the city streets until he was at her highest point, Wayne Tower. Now he released the sigh he had been holding. Shaking his head he wondered what he was doing out. The unseasonably hot weather had driven a lot of crime inside.

His partners were patrolling the streets and so far the signal had not lit the night sky once. There were no big cases to work on. The police banner had been quiet expect for one suspected arson and a few domestics. A cock fight had been broken up in the narrows and he had stopped three attempted muggings.

Batgirl had reported two rapes, one crazed druggy trying to knock over a quickie-mart and a body that had been found in the river, most likely the result of a suicide. Robin's night hadn't been much different. There was no need for Batman to be out.

That thought made his breath catch. Were they really turning the tide, he wondered. Crime rates certainly pointed to that conclusion. He had often wondered what he would do if there was no need for Batman. Would he settle down and have a family and go to work every day like a normal person, he asked himself.

No, he was too old to start a family. He wasn't too far from sixty, as much as that thought made him break out in a cold sweat. He hadn't thought he would live past thirty. When he had made it to thirty-five he had been exceedingly surprised. Even more surprised when he had turned forty and then fifty. He fleetingly wondered if he would live forever. Sometimes it felt as though he already had.

If the city no longer needed him, would he be able to put the suit away? Of course he was never going to abolish crime completely. That was an impossible goal. But the rates of all violent crimes had fallen in the twenty odd years he had been Batman. The Joker was dead, Riddler had retired and Harvey, after extensive plastic surgery, had been quiet for years.

Batman, through a charitable donation, had given Pamela Isley two hundred acres of land surrounded by tall electrified fences and a promise no one would bother her if she would leave society alone. It had taken years but Batman, through visiting her about once a year had helped convince her to give up trying to convince people of her point of view through violence. So far, her turning over a new leaf had stuck.

Hush was gone, as was Ra's al Ghul, as far as Batman knew. Scarecrow had been effectively incarcerated for nearly four years. Killer Croc hadn't been seen in over two years, it was rumored he had taken the earnings from his last bank heist and gone to South America.

Deadshot was older than Bruce was and had retired after being diagnosed with glaucoma. Batman had heard rumors of the former assassin and a marijuana farm in California. All the most famous of his rogue's gallery had either become too old to cause much trouble or had fled Gotham. Mad Hatter was New York's problem though he seemed to be slowing down. Penguin still tried to import and export illegally but Batman had a suspicion he was doing it more to annoy the Bat family than anything else. He certainly didn't need the money.

There would always be psychopaths but it seemed the age of the supervillian in Gotham was waning. Batman had outlasted them and eventually that kind of evil had tired out. He hadn't exactly beaten them, he thought, but he had been more stubborn. He had waited long enough and they had either killed each other or moved on.

Perhaps, he told himself, it was time to cut back. Perhaps it was time to have a life. With that that he nearly slapped himself. If he left, he thought, people like Joker and Scarecrow would rise again. Sighing, he wondered if he really was that important, if all of Gotham really did rest on his decisions. Was he the fulcrum the city resided on?

Shaking his head he looked to the sky. The crescent moon was high behind the clouds. It was time to go make decisions, he thought. He couldn't hide on rooftops for the rest of Connie's life. Leaping from his perch he made his way to the car and started for home. Patrolling had meant to take his mind off his current problems but it unfortunately served to force him to concentrate on them instead.

Gripping the wheel tightly he vowed to have a civil conversation with Connie. He would convince her to make the right decision, for the both of them and the child unfortunate enough to be conceived by them. She would come to her senses, he just knew it.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

He wasn't so much tired as he was weary. Stripping the suit off, he showered and changed into sweats and a t-shirt. Padding through the halls of the Manor and up the stairs and into his bedroom he wondered if she would be asleep or still up contemplating. Opening the door, it took him all of three seconds to realize she wasn't there.

A sinking feeling started to grow in the bottom of his stomach. Opening a few dresser drawers a low growl escaped his throat. All her things were gone. She hadn't had much there, but a few pairs of socks and underwear and some changes of clothes, but they were all gone.

Tearing open the medicine cabinet he realized the annoying compacts and makeup brushes that would undoubtedly fall from their rightful place into the sink every time he opened the door were not there. She had taken everything. A sudden thought that maybe she had left to go back to Boston had him breaking out in a cold sweat.

No, he told himself, it was almost three in the morning; she wouldn't have gotten on a plane. Cursing to himself, he realized she was that stubborn and she would do something like that.

Running down the steps he grabbed his car keys and screeched the tires pulling out from the driveway. He drove at speeds that would have definitely gotten him pulled over if there had been any cops watching. He barely managed to parallel park on the street before sprinting to the doorway of her building.

The doorman got off duty at midnight so he was forced to try and ring her apartment. When there was no answer he wondered if there was rappelling equipment in the trunk of the car. The building wasn't that tall.

On the second ring a groggy voice answered.

"What?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, he pressed the intercom button. "It's me, Connie, let me up."

He swore he could hear her hesitation. When the door didn't buzz he rang her again. She didn't answer. Gritting his teeth he told himself he would break the door down if she didn't answer his next ring. He was thankful but disappointed at the same time when he heard her voice.

"What do you want?"

He fought the urge to growl. "Open the door or I will break it down."

She knew his threat was not idle and pressed the button to open the door. He stalked through the entryway, no longer in such a great hurry since he knew she hadn't fled the city yet. Using the time in the elevator to calm himself he was able to walk normally to her door and knock quietly.

Wearing only his sweater, which covered just enough of her thighs so he couldn't see her underwear, she opened the door. Her face was tear stained, her nose was red and her eyes were puffy. She was hugging herself with one arm while the other held the door open, blocking his way into the apartment.

They stood staring at each other for a minute. He knew logically she looked horrible. At that moment, though, all he could think of was scooping her up and kissing away her tears. He hated the idea he had helped cause some of the pain she was obviously experiencing.

"Can I come in," he finally asked.

Nodding, she backed away from the door. "I thought…I wouldn't see you again."

Startled, he immediately took a step closer to her. "Why would you think that?"

Shrugging her shoulders she turned and deposited herself on the couch. "Why would you want to see me? What is there to say?"

Swallowing hard he looked away for a moment. "I think there's a lot to say, Connie."

Shrugging again, she tried to look and sound nonchalant. She knew she didn't quite succeed. "No, I don't think so. I figured it all out. I have some friends back in Boston and an aunt and cousin I haven't seen in a long time. I think my cousin will take the baby once I'm gone."

He was horrified, so much so that the emotion flashed across his face before he could stop it. Shaking his head he immediately went to her and sat down. Taking her by the shoulders he forced her to look at him. "You really want to have a child you will never get to know? This could kill you. There is no reason to do this, Connie."

Pulling away she stood violently. "I knew you would say that! There is a reason, damn it, Bruce! I can't kill this baby!"

"It's a fetus!" It was his turn to stand. "It isn't a baby; it looks like a sea monkey! Connie, you don't have long even without this being sucking all the energy out of you! You are committing suicide if you do this! And it won't be fair to the child; he'll never know his mother! He'll always wonder who you are and why you aren't around!"

Balling her fists she held back from punching him. Logically, she knew that was a bad idea. "Well I already love my little sea monkey." Her voice came out in a dangerously low tone. "I want this child."

His words were short and clipped and he almost regretted his tone. "You may give birth, but this child will never be yours because you'll be dead."

Her breath hitched as she bit her lip to keep from crying again. Her eyes burned harshly and she didn't want to make the pain any worse. "This is my baby. I am carrying it and I want it."

"That doesn't make any sense!" His temper was getting the better of him and he knew it.

Stepping towards him she hit her chest with her palm. "It makes sense to me!"

"What am I supposed to do?" He whispered. "I don't know what to do with a baby, Connie."

"I told you, I figured…"

"Stop it!" Grabbing her shoulders he shook her slightly. "Don't you dare say something like that again! This is my child as much as it is yours and you will not go giving it away to anyone!"

Surprised at his sudden outburst, she nodded. "Sorry," she managed.

He could see the slight pain on her face and he assumed it was his doing. Releasing his death grip on her shoulders, he stepped back. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you."

Releasing a shaky breath, she hugged herself. "You don't want this baby." She sounded confused, even to her own ears.

Considering his words carefully, he spoke slowly. "No, I don't. I don't want you to have this child because I know what it means. I know that it you do this you are signing your death warrant. Under different circumstances…"

Her head snapped towards him in surprise. "You want a family?"

"I have a family," he answered. "If this baby wasn't going to kill you I wouldn't want you to end the pregnancy. I would have never tried for this…but it happened. And if it had happened when you were well…I would have dealt with it differently. As it is, though, Connie, I have no choice but try and convince you this isn't a good idea."

Nodding, she started to understand his point of view. "Are you afraid of me dying or of you being a single father?"

If anyone had ever told him that someday someone would refer to him as a single father he would fallen over with shock. Even when he was making his feeble attempt at raising Dick, no one had referred to him like that. The prospect was terrifying. The utter ridiculousness of her question struck him mute for a moment. Both prospects were discomforting.

He shrugged and gave what he thought was a lame answer. "Is there an option C?"

A small snort of laughter escaped her but that erupted into a full fit of giggles that lasted a few moments. She leaned against the nearest wall to recover and wiped her eyes. "I hope you kept the receipt for that sense of humor, because you should take it back."

He managed a tiny smile and approached her slowly. "Connie, please, I'll beg you if I have to. Do not leave me with a baby."

"I don't have a choice," she whispered.

Grasping her shoulders lightly, he looked into her eyes with what he hoped was a pleading look. "Yes you do. There is always a choice."

She smiled sadly. "I've made mine. You have a choice whether or not to keep the baby once I'm gone."

With that said, he felt his heart break. He felt like curling up in a ball in a dark corner and staying there forever. He wanted to shut the world, including her, out of his life and suffer in privacy and silence. Seeing her face though, he knew he couldn't do that.

Pulling her to him he held her close and stroked her hair. Mumbling incoherent but comforting words in her ear he led her to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed he pulled her to his lap and sighed when she curled up with her arms around his neck.

He had a far away look in his eyes and he wasn't actually saying anything meaningful which was totally unlike him. The clinical part of her recognized that he was probably in emotional shock but the woman in her wanted nothing more than to be held and comforted so she said and did nothing.

When he shifted so that his legs were on the bed and his back was against the headboard she moved so that she was still sitting on him, her head against his chest. Sighing with something near relief, she let a few stray tears soak into his shirt.

Closing his eyes he realized the complete mental exhaustion that had claimed him. Holding her tighter he breathed deeply and tried to stop his mind from thinking. It was nearly impossible.

Their fatigue overrode their need to think after a short time and both fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep. It wasn't until the sun was up and beating mercilessly on the city below it that they finally woke to find themselves still wrapped in each other's arms.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Managing to convince Connie to move into the Manor had been no easy feat. It had taken weeks of discussion and then finally a downright rude demand from Bruce to force her to move in. She had insisted on keeping her apartment, just in case, she had said, and Bruce had agreed. He was determined to keep an eye on her and make sure she followed all the rules she was supposed to. She wasn't much of a conformist and he knew she would chafe against her bonds.

It was the twentieth week of her pregnancy. Summer was slowly coming to an end and the temperatures were starting to drop, which she was thankful for. She had been more sensitive to heat in the past months.

Alfred doted on her consistently. Telling the older man that Connie was pregnant had been a difficult task. Bruce had thought his butler was about to either faint or start dancing. In the end, Alfred had clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed gently before leaving to make his way to the nearest computer. He had started researching exactly what the diet of a pregnant woman should be.

Tim had taken the news with utter shock and hadn't spoken to Bruce for nearly two weeks. Bruce had finally given up trying to get through to the young man and had called Dick, who had sighed greatly but come over to smooth the waters. He and Barbara had nearly had strokes when they were told but had quickly accepted the news.

Cass was the person who worried Bruce the most. She had watched Connie change throughout her pregnancy with rapt attention. It reminded Bruce of when he had a particularly interesting experiment brewing. Cass wasn't jovial or shocked, she seemed to approach the topic with a curiosity Bruce found unnerving.

He had been forced to take time off from both his careers. Gotham wasn't suffering, which stung his pride a bit, but Wayne Enterprises still needed him. Working from home had become a regular occurrence, a change Bruce had tried to adapt to gracefully.

The first few months, Bruce admitted to himself, had not gone very well. He and Connie had managed to fight a few more times, breaking a few things in the process. When the worst of her symptoms had ended, though, they had both seemed to calm and accept the inevitable.

Insomnia had claimed Bruce as its victim. He would routinely go to bed with Connie and wait for her to fall asleep before slipping out of bed to either mentally torture or physically exhaust himself in the gym. Neither tactic had helped him sleep.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he sighed. It had been months since he had slept properly. Laughing to himself, he reflected that a man who routinely functioned on four hours of sleep should be able to function on two or less. Unfortunately, his body disagreed with him.

Looking up from his desk he saw Connie standing in the doorway. She was trying to smile in a reassuring way but she just seemed nervous to Bruce. Capping his pen he stood and went to her. Never in his life had he been comfortable with physical affection but he had felt the need to show it to Connie. She seemed to respond best to that.

Putting his arm around her shoulders, he brought her close. His other hand rested on the bulge of her stomach. She was slightly smaller than she should have been, according to Leslie, but Bruce had tried not to be concerned. Leslie had told him once he was being neurotic so he had tried to keep his concerns to himself after that.

It had only been a few weeks after they had found they were expecting that the story had been leaked to the tabloids. The resulting hounding from the press had put a strain on their relationship but Bruce was used to being tormented by the press and was able to help Connie weather the storm.

Once the rumors of the pregnancy had been confirmed and a statement had been released explaining they were expecting a child but had no plans to marry the press had backed off slightly. A few thinly veiled threats had finally forced them to stop camping outside the grounds waiting for a picture of the woman carrying Bruce Wayne's love child.

"Are you ready?" She asked, drawing him from his internalization.

Nodding, he squeezed her shoulders again. Taking a deep breath he led the way to the car. Unsure if he truly wanted to do what they were about to do he took another deep breath.

"If you want to be surprised…" she started.

"I think this whole thing is enough of a surprise." The moment the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. The look on her face made him want to bang his head off the hood of the car.

"I didn't mean that," he said, trying to recover what was left of her good mood. "I meant…"

"I know what you meant," she whispered.

It was not a secret Bruce was not excited about the prospect of having a baby. He had considered fleeing to far away places of the globe a few times. In his darker moments he wondered if he should try and turn back time to prevent the conception in the first place. It was frightening to him at times that he might actually be able to do such a thing.

He had never taken the easy way out before, though, and he wasn't going to do it this time. He refused to run from this situation.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "Connie, I am doing my best."

"So am I!" Her words were punctuated by her fist slamming on the car door.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Bruce nodded. "I know. I'm sorry," he repeated. He had never apologized so much in his entire life as he had in the past three months, he thought wryly. "I want to know the sex of the baby. I need to know. I think…" He trailed off, unsure of how to voice his desires. There were times he wished he could communicate via letter.

"I get it." Dragging a hand through her hair, she sighed. "Then at least there's something you can control. You can focus on something. Like decorating the nursery or reading parenting books or something. I get that this will help ground you. I feel the same way. I want to know too." Looking at him expectantly, she waited for him to react.

Unsure of how to respond to that, he continued to stare at her.

She cocked her head. "Umm…since we both want to know, maybe we should actually go the appointment?" Her voice had a hint of teasing in it.

Allowing himself to smile, he nodded. "Right."

They drove in amiable silence. An infinitesimal part of him was excited to know the sex of the baby. The great majority of his psyche was terrified. He had gone to the previous appointments with her; he had listened to the heartbeat and watched as something that looked like a squid moved around on the ultrasound screen.

For months, though, he had been referring to the baby as either a fetus or as 'it.' Knowing if it was a boy or a girl would lead to him imagining the baby not as a thing, not as a parasite, but as a person. That shift in thinking was terrifying. Thinking of the baby as a person made the entire situation real and as logical and well grounded as Bruce was he sometimes wondered when he was going to wake up from this nightmare.

They didn't have to wait long for their appointment. Leslie met them there, as always, and being that she had recommended the OB/GYN, who happened to have been Leslie's best friend in medical school, they were all treated exceptionally well.

Bruce had never asked Leslie to become so involved. It had been an organic occurrence. She had recommended her friend and so had met them the first time to make introductions. Somehow, she had managed to always know when they were going in to the medical office and had always met them there. Neither had complained about the situation.

Barely noticing what Leslie was saying to him he just nodded and followed grimly behind the women. He always felt completely out of place at these appointments, he reflected. The OB/GYN was female, making him the only male there. As seasoned as he was in seeing all manner of sites that made him uncomfortable, these appointments always managed to put him in that mental place.

He had tried to have clinical interest in what they were doing, but he always ended up wanting to cringe or shiver. He thanked whatever higher power listening for making women carry children. The entire process seemed horrific.

Standing in the corner was apparently not allowed he thought wryly as Leslie gave him a stern look and beckoned him over to Connie's side. Her shirt was pulled up, exposing her slightly enlarged abdomen.

The screen showed the squid, as always, and he heard the heartbeat of said squid, but he could feel his pulse racing; he only wanted to know what kind of squid they were going to have, he thought.

"It's a girl!"

The doctor sounded excited and Bruce had to wonder why. Connie had a small, sad smile on her face and Leslie was wrapping her arms around him in congratulations. The rest of the visit was a blur, as was the drive home. He thought Connie had said something and he hoped he had responded appropriately but his mind was elsewhere.

Once home he immediately sought the sanctuary of his study. He barely registered Connie sighing dramatically behind him as he retreated to what she had deemed his 'war room.'

Sitting down he stared blankly at the desk in front of him. He was going to be a father. He was going to be a father to a baby girl. An innocent baby girl who was preparing herself to greet the world in a few short months. Closing his eyes he wondered if he would ever be able to really love something that was killing his girlfriend. For the sake of his daughter, he hoped so.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Robin's fist hit the thug's face a little harder than necessary. Growling, he flipped himself over the crumpling teen and onto the head of another. The gang fight was quickly breaking up now that he and Batgirl had entered the fray. The age of the Supervillian may indeed by over, he reflected, but the era of gang violence was in full swing.

Batgirl was as silent as ever as she crushed a young man's wrist, causing him to scream and drop the steel pipe he had been wielding. The one with the chains fell quickly after that, with a cracked rib and bloodied nose, and soon the fight was over.

Robin was nearly bored with the night's action and he craved something more challenging than a few thugs with homemade weapons. Batgirl was equally as bored but hid it better. They both, without words, grappled to a nearby roof and slipped into the shadows.

Traversing the rooftops silently, they moved as though they were part of the shadows themselves. The police were more than capable of handling most of the dangers present on the streets this night. When they had both reached the rooftop near the GCPD headquarters, they stopped.

Robin almost wished the signal would light the sky. It was not to be, it seemed, as they stared at the unmoving spotlight. A near silent sigh left his lips and Cass's shoulders drooped. It hadn't been the same since Bruce had cut back. He seemed to be home more nights than not and Tim hated to admit how much it was affecting him.

"It will be all right," Cass said as she awkwardly patted his shoulder.

The corner of his lip quirked up. "You are so bad at that."

Shrugging, she leaned onto her haunches. "I know. You are too."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes until both of them took off towards Wayne Tower. They could hear no screams for help, no car alarms or angry words as they swung through the sky. Nothing alarming whatsoever reached their ears and soon they were sitting atop gargoyles and staring down at the quiet city.

"It gets better every year." Cass was the first to speak, which was uncharacteristic.

His frown spoke more than his words. "Better…I guess."

"You miss action."

Again, he hadn't had to explain to Cass what was bothering him; she simply knew. He loved that about her. "It's just that this is…I mean, what are we going to do? When they don't need us?" The tilt of his chin indicated that he was referring to the people below them.

"They'll always need us."

Her quiet conviction took him aback. "If it continues like this, we won't need to be out every night. There may whole weeks when we're entirely superfluous."

They were silent for a few moments before Cass turned her head to face Tim. "That won't be bad. If we can stay home, that means more people are safe. Maybe there are other cities, or planets, that need you."

Knowing his mouth was agape, he tried to reign in his look of shock. "What, like create a Batman Incorporated? Take the fight to the streets of New York or Chicago? Or…I don't know Cass…we operate on a different wavelength than the rest of them."

She knew exactly who 'the rest of them' referred to. "You are just sore about the Titans."

If he had actual feathers, they would have ruffled. Tim's relationship with the Teen Titans had blown up in his face around the same time Bruce's had with the Justice League. The only member of the Bat family on speaking terms with the superhero community at large was Oracle. Of course, everyone still liked Nightwing. He even worked with The Titans now and again, for old times' sake, he said.

Taking a calming breath, he chose his words carefully. "If I wanted to move to a different city or even a different planet, I could. The Titans couldn't stop me."

"No, they couldn't. But you won't move anywhere they are. It keeps you locked here."

Her insightful words made him clench his fists. She didn't need to explain to him that 'they' referred to every other cape that wasn't a Bat. "I am not locked here." His voice was more growl than actual words.

"Nightwing has Bludhaven. Maybe you should find your own city. And a new name."

Standing suddenly, he stalked a few feet away from Cass. He didn't want her to press this issue right now. "I love this city. I grew up here, I want…" The breath caught in his throat. "I want to die here," he admitted quietly.

"I know. But maybe…you might be happier."

Her voice was near his ear and he wanted to run away from her. He wanted to deny what she was saying. But, damn her, she was right. Bruce was about to be a father to an infant, his girlfriend was about to die, and Gotham was quickly catching up to Metropolis in safety. Bruce himself was nearly unneeded, and soon he wouldn't be able to be Batman as often as he was used to. He had to live, if only for his would-be child, and that meant he wouldn't be able to put himself in harms way as often.

Tim doubted Bruce realized it, but he would soon be forced, although grudgingly, to retire. Tim had thought that would happen sooner rather later, but after Bruce's trip to the Pit, it might be decades before Bruce retired fully. With a child, though, he would certainly be relegated to a part-timer. Even with that true, Gotham looked as though it didn't need a Robin. It didn't need any full time vigilantes. It might never again.

A sudden and inexplicable grief seized his heart. Was he so like Bruce that he couldn't even consider not being Robin? Was the scent and sight and feel of the city so engrained in his blood that leaving scared him senseless? With a frustrated growl, he dragged his hand through his hair.

"Maybe…maybe that's true. But I can't leave right now. Not with everything going on with Bruce. He needs us here to watch Gotham for him while he deals with…everything. Afterwards though, I'll think about it."

"After she dies."

It was no secret that Connie was going to die not long after giving birth, but it hurt to hear. He didn't like her much, which proved difficult, as she was inherently likeable, but he certainly didn't wish her death.

"You are just full of hard questions and difficult observations tonight."

With a heavy sigh, he shot a line and swung through the night. Batgirl followed not long after. She knew when a conversation had been declared over.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

She could feel the panic rising. It had been weeks since she had been out of bed and it taken a lot of convincing to keep from being admitted to the hospital. Even Bruce had tried to talk her into admitting herself. Groaning, she tried to curl into the fetal position but couldn't because of the bulge of her middle.

Trying to slow her breathing she wondered if she should call for Bruce. He was most likely working and the cramps in her back were probably Braxton-Hicks, she told herself. They were false contractions. Nothing to be worried about. She managed that train of thought until a pain that she was sure was a real contraction sucked the breath from her lungs.

"No…" she moaned to herself. "I'm only thirty weeks." A thin tear escaped down her cheek and she wondered if this was the day she was going to meet her daughter.

For ten weeks she and Bruce had been able to call the baby growing inside her a 'she.' It had been a wonderful feeling. Once Bruce had come back to Earth, after the initial shock of their ultrasound visit, he had been doting and understanding. When she reached twenty-three weeks and seemed to loose all of her energy he had practically stopped going to work to take care of her.

She knew he conducted conference calls and meetings via his webcam, but the guilt that had plagued her for interrupting his life had never quite left her.

"Not enough to do something about it though," she said to herself out loud. "Oh god, I'm talking to myself…not good."

Quelling her desire to verbalize more, she concentrated on breathing. It was too early to have the baby, she told herself. It took her a few minutes to convince herself that willing away contractions was not a viable plan.

Her body had done very well with the pregnancy until a few weeks ago. It had been sudden and extreme when the fatigue had captured her. Her doctors, she had gained a team in the past few months, had ordered her to bed rest, a rule Alfred and Bruce seemed to delight in enforcing. She had cursed them both multiple times but had understood their incessant desire to keep her safe.

Lifting the phone she put t receiver to her forehead and tried to convince herself to call him. Bruce had installed the phone line in the bedroom; it connected to all rooms in the house. Whenever she was in need of something she only had to press a button and someone came to her aide. At the moment, she wanted to be left alone to be in pain but panic was quickly rising within her and she decided she wanted Bruce by her side.

She managed to dial the number to his study and after only a few seconds of hearing her voice he hung up the phone and bounded upstairs. Taking one look at her he dialed Leslie's number.

Things happened very quickly. Refusing to wait for an ambulance he lifted Connie in his arms and carried her to the car. Ignoring everything else he barely noticed Cass's look of concern and her subsequent following of them to and into the car.

He drove faster than was safe but somehow Leslie managed to meet them at the hospital just as Bruce lifted Connie into his arms. A nurse immediately directed them to the birthing suites and Bruce's heart jumped into his throat. His brain screamed that he wasn't ready for this but he knew there was nothing he could do to stop the process.

Machines were strapped to her and a variety of people came and left the room. Leslie translated the medical jargon though he had studied enough in the past months that he did not need her aide in understanding the doctors and nurses. Playing along, though, he just nodded and tried to keep the utter panic from his face.

"We're going to try to stop her labor," a doctor was saying. "The baby is viable now, but it would be better if she could carry a little longer."

Nodding mutely, Bruce stood and watched as doctors tried to keep Connie from labor. It was nearly thirty minutes before they gave up. Bruce's heart lurched when he saw a team of nurses enter the room.

"Mr. Wayne," a different doctor said, approaching him, "we can't stop the labor. We're taking her into surgery. If this progresses any more Connie may be in danger."

"Do what you have to." He heard the words leave his mouth but didn't feel his lips move.

Leslie's hand was around his but he barely felt the pressure. Cass had been nice enough to wait outside the door but upon seeing them wheel Connie out on the bed she became slightly alarmed.

Following the team of people in scrubs the three spectators were led to a waiting area directly outside the OB surgical suite. Sitting heavily Bruce put his head in his hands. The minutes ticked by in an excruciating way. He wondered if the Earth's rotation had actually slowed.

"Mr. Wayne?"

Hearing his name he stood and followed the attending who had called to him. He listened with one ear to details of the surgery. Only two hours ago he had been sitting in his study signing papers about a merger with a Chinese company. Only three hours ago he talked to Dick and told him everything was going smoothly. He wondered how things had moved so quickly.

"Your daughter has been taken to the NICU. Connie's being moved to recovery. She's lost a lot of blood but we're transfusing her. You can see her soon."

Bruce nodded to the doctor while Leslie stepped up and took over the conversation. He felt Cass's presence beside him and was oddly comforted by it.

When he was allowed to see Connie he was suddenly unsure if he wanted to. He had seen people die. He had held people in his arms while they breathed their last. Connie looked very close to that point.

"Hey," he said rather weakly.

She managed to smile and take his hand while he sat. "That was kind of intense, huh?"

Nodding, he brushed the hair away from her face. "How are you?"

He could tell by the look in her eyes and the smile on her face that she wasn't doing well.

She decided to lie. "I'm okay."

"Liar." The word was said totally without malice, which surprised them both.

There was blood infusing into her arm but he suddenly knew that wouldn't be enough. Doctors were approaching and they told him to leave, in a nice way, but he refused to move. He knew, with certainty, that she was about to die.

"Mr. Wayne?" The doctor tried again. "We need to speak with you sir."

Standing he followed them away from the bed. He waited patiently for one of the two doctors before him to speak.

"She lost a lot of blood. We did an emergency MRI and blood tests. Her clotting factors have dropped dramatically. She was tested three weeks ago but the numbers have changed drastically. We're doing all we can…"

"She's dying."

The doctor stopped speaking immediately and simply nodded.

"She's been dying for a long time. Is she going to die today?"

"I don't think we can stop the bleeding. She's bleeding into her abdomen from multiple sites."

He wasn't ready for this, he told himself. "There's no way to stop it?"

The second doctor spoke. "We can try but it might give her only a few more hours. Her cardiac tests aren't coming back very good."

"Release her," was he only thing that he could think to say.

While both of them guffawed and tried to reason with him he turned back to Connie. "Talk to my lawyers. If she's going to die, it's not going to be in here."

He sat next to her for a moment. They simply stared into each others faces before Connie smiled and spoke. "It's over."

The simply statement nearly undid him. Not trusting his voice he simply nodded.

"How long?" She asked.

"Not long," he answered.

"Bruce…"

Clasping her hand he leaned forward. "What can I do, Connie?"

"It's impossible for me to see the baby, isn't it?"

Knowing the probability of Connie being allowed in the NICU, in her current state, or the baby being allowed to be brought to her, was very slim, he still tried anyway. He was told, unequivocally, that the baby was too fragile to move but that Connie could be allowed in the NICU, if only for a few moments.

The nurse pushed her wheelchair, and Connie held Bruce's hand as they were lead to an incubator with a tiny being in it. Bruce couldn't, for a moment, imagine how so many wires and tubes could be attached to something so tiny. They simply started at the baby for a few minutes, before Bruce turned to look at a rapidly paling Connie.

"Is there anything else, Connie? Anything at all I can do for you?" His words sounded hollow to him but he could not stand to simply watch her sit in a wheelchair and die.

Smiling, she squeezed his hand as much as her weakened body would allow her to. "I want to see one last sunrise," she said, in a half-hearted manner.

One look at the clock told him that was impossible. The sun had only recently set and she wasn't going to make it to morning. His brain went into overdrive and in only a moment he knew exactly what he was going to do.

One small skirmish later he was traveling with her, via ambulance, to Wayne Manor. Lifting her in his arms he carried her straight to the cave. Alfred and Cass followed behind them, both with saddened features.

Setting her gently on a gurney in the medical bay, Bruce picked up a communicator he hadn't used in a long time. Waiting patiently for a response, he nearly sighed in relief when he received one.

"J'onn, I need a favor."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The halls of the Orbiting Watchtower were blissfully empty, as J'onn had promised they would be. It had been a long time since Bruce had visited the Tower, since he had decided he no longer wanted to be a part of the League.

Only J'onn was aware of his presence. He wore the suit, just in case he did stumble upon someone. As the Martian had assured him, though, the observation bay was empty as well.

A shallowly breathing Connie was in his arms. Looking at her pale face he swallowed hard. She didn't have long at all, he thought.

She was blissfully numb from the epidural. Pain was not a problem for her at the moment and she doubted it ever would be again.

Kneeling on the floor just in front of the massive windows, he cradled her gently to him. "Connie…"

She opened her eyes ever so slightly but the simple movement felt like it took all her energy.

"Look," he pointed out the window.

He was rewarded with a gasp. "Oh my god…"

"I couldn't make the sun rise faster, but I could give you the next best thing."

The Tower was in position so that the Earth was rising just over the Sun. It was the most beautiful thing Connie had ever seen.

He brushed the tears off her cheek as she stared, enraptured, at the Earth from Space.

"How…" She was too weak to finish her sentence.

"I used to know this place," he whispered.

"The League?"

Nodding, he pulled her closer. "Yes, the League."

They sat in silence for a moment until he felt her breathing slow even further. Swallowing, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the right to thing to say.

"What do you want to name her?" It had taken her nearly a minute to work up the energy to form a full sentence.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looked down at her. "What do you want?"

She smiled. "My mother's name…Caroline…Carly…"

"Carly," he repeated. "That's perfect."

Staring into the abyss of space, with the entire Earth before her she suddenly felt at peace. She was so small, she thought, in the scheme of things. The Earth would continue to rotate, her daughter would live. Bruce would live. She could die happy.

The only thing he could think to say escaped his lips before he could stop the words. "I love you," he whispered. He could feel a hot mist behind his eyes and he fought to keep control of himself. He had to be strong for her.

She reached up and clasped his exposed chin with her hand. The pressure felt like that of a feather to him. Leaning down he gently captured her lips, kissing her with the lightest of touches.

Smiling, she turned back to the scene in front of her. "No…you don't…"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes as he felt a single tear roll down his cheek.

"But thanks for saying it…"

Opening his eyes he looked down into the deep brown orbs that had so engaged him. Even now he saw understanding and acceptance. With her final words spoken she leaned her head against his chest and took her last breath.

When he felt and saw her chest stop moving he felt as though he was going to break in half. It felt like a long time before he managed to pick himself and her up from the floor.

Carrying her silently back to the transporter room he avoided J'onn's eyes. Without a word or a thought he was transported back to the cave. He moved with robotic remembered motions. Setting her on the medical table he changed from his suit back into his street clothes.

Lifting her in his arms he took her upstairs and laid her on his bed before calling Leslie. He sat next to Connie, waiting for Leslie to come and pronounce her dead. He wasn't sure if minutes or days had passed when she arrived.

Leslie said a few words and signed a piece of paper. The men who had followed her gently removed the body, leaving Bruce alone.

A warm hand was on his shoulder and when he turned he saw Alfred, his face strained but oddly calm.

"She's gone," was all Bruce could say.

Nodding. Alfred sat next to Bruce on the bed. He had tried to be a pillar of strength for his charge but at the moment all he wanted to do was weep. "Is the child well?"

Looking up suddenly, Bruce realized he didn't have a good answer to that question, anything could have happened in the time since they left the hospital. "She was in the NICU. I have…I have to go."

Standing, he took himself downstairs and outside and to the car without any conscious thought. He hadn't even thought of the baby.

Tim was standing by the door and automatically followed Bruce out. Bruce didn't argue when Tim said he would drive.

Sitting next to an incubator, a part of Bruce's mind wondered how he had come to be there. Most of him didn't care. Looking at the tiny pink creature in the incubator, he took a deep breath. She didn't look like a squid at all, he thought.

Putting his head in his hands he asked himself, for possibly the millionth time, when his life had spiraled so far out of control.


End file.
